Under the Rebel's Reign Part 8

Mariam Abagi was a woman of unusual character for her caste. She was married to a German who was disliked and suspected by the natives.

They looked upon him as a spy, a traitor come from Europe for some evil purpose, and eventually did away with him. Mariam was a really good woman, and resented the deed bitterly. Naoum, her son, never saw his father, but inherited some of his good business qualities, and all his mother's kindness of heart. So when he had found Helmar in distress after the affair with the inspector, he instinctively went to his aid, and, finding him still alive, did not hesitate to take him to Mariam at once. On discovering Helmar's nationality, and learning how he too had fallen foul of the treacherous natives, she showed great regard for him, which gradually developed into strong affection, and her kindness knew no bounds. Her son shared the feelings of his mother, and the two, as will be seen, proved to be great benefactors to Helmar.

During the next few days he made more rapid progress toward recovery. Each time he saw the patient nurse, he endeavoured to extract from her the meaning of the position in which he found himself, but without success--she would tell him nothing. He began to get a hazy recollection of a fight, but how it came about, and with whom, he could not recall.

What puzzled him most was this old woman. She was tall and gaunt, of the Arab type, and her face was lined and wrinkled to such an extent that it was impossible to tell whether its expression was kindly or otherwise. When his strength grew and things became clearer to his mental vision, he determined to have an explanation.

Late one evening as the woman came in with the lamp, he broached the subject.

"Mariam," he said abruptly, as she was about to leave the room, "come here. I am strong now, and I want to talk to you. Now tell me all about it. How did I get into this plight? And how came I into this house?"

She eyed him keenly for a moment, then walking over to the bed sat down beside it.

"My son brought you here; you were wounded in a fight with Arabs in Cairo."

"Ah, yes," he said thoughtfully. "There was a meeting and we went to stop it. I remember something of it now. Where is the police inspector?"

"Dead."

"Dead?"

"Yes, dead," she repeated.

George did not answer. He was thinking hard. At last he spoke again.

"Am I not in Cairo, then?" he asked in astonishment.

"No, you are in Gizeh, a little distance from the city. Cairo is in such a state of tumult at the present time, it would be impossible to keep you in hiding there after the part you took with the police.

So my son brought you here to me for safety."

"How long have I been here?" he asked.

"Since that affair with the police officer," Mariam answered.

"Yes," said George, after another long pause, "I can see it all now; we were set upon. But how did your son find me?"

"He was with the crowd who went round at the noise of the fighting.

The people thought you were killed, and so left you. But my son, Naoum, he loves not people of this country, and he saw you were not of them, so he stayed and discovered you were still alive. He is a good man is Naoum, and a dutiful son; he knows my feelings towards your countrymen, and he brought you to me here. I love the men of Europe, therefore I help you. Mariam Abagi does not love all and would not help many, but you are young to die."

As she finished speaking, a troubled expression pa.s.sed over her parchment-like face, and she sat munching her lips, blinking at the flickering light. Helmar sighed and shifted his position uneasily.

The keen black eyes were turned on him at once.

"But I can never repay you," he said. "You don't understand; I am a stranger--I have no money."

The old woman's eyes flashed in a moment, but fortunately she was in such a position that he could not see them.

"I require no money," she said, sharply. "I have enough for my wants. I do not this for gain," and her jaws shut with a snap.

George saw that he had made a mistake and endeavoured to remedy it, but only plunged the further into the mire.

"Yes, yes, I know, you are very good, but I cannot let you do this for me without----"

"Peace! You mean well, I know, but I will not listen. Your troubles are not yet over. It will be sufficient reward to me that you get away from this place without being killed."

"How do you mean?" he asked, failing to grasp the woman's meaning.

"Ah, I forgot, you do not know. The country is now in a critical position, and Arabi Pasha is at the head of the army. The excited and corrupted citizens are stirring up strife, and menacing all the Europeans and any one else who had, or is supposed to have had, any connection with the hated government, and Arabi has nearly lost power over the mob. It is kept secret that you are here, and so you are safe for the present! But I do not know how long this safety will last. I have some power, and my son is powerful too, but that may not avail us long, and then you will have to fly. Have no fear, however, I shall watch, and, at the first warning of danger, will provide for you."

After this Mariam would answer no more questions, and left him to ponder over what she had said. He could hardly realize the full purport of all she had told him. This then was the danger Inspector Childs had spoken of; this then was the result of those meetings the police had been watching, the one they had endeavoured to spy upon.

In his weakened state the idea of it all set his brain in a whirl, and his thoughts became confused. The one thing that seemed to strike him more forcibly than the rest was, how on earth was he to escape?

The days dragged slowly by, and he soon reached the convalescent stage. The wound he had received in his shoulder quickly healed under Mariam's treatment, and it became only a question of time for the recovery of his strength. He saw no one but the old woman who personally attended to all his wants. The son she spoke of did not show himself, although on several occasions he had heard a man's voice in another room.

Once or twice Mariam had spoken of her power, and gave him to understand that she did not require money; the squalor of her room made this seem rather enigmatical to the sick man, but he knew such people were sometimes eccentric in their mode of living, and this might possibly account for his surroundings. However, it was no affair of his, she had been an angel of goodness to him, and he had no right to pry into her private affairs.

Helmar was young, and his great vitality stood him in good stead; the moment his wound healed his strength began to come back rapidly, and with returning health he felt it inc.u.mbent upon him to suggest that he should relieve the faithful Mariam of the trouble he was causing her. Knowing the old woman's peculiarities, he was a little afraid to broach the subject, but his duty lay so plainly before him that, despite his feelings, he decided to speak his mind.

One evening, after a day of chafing at his inactivity, the opportunity came. She had brought in some food, and their conversation soon turned upon the terrible state of the country.

"I don't want you to think me ungrateful for your kindness, Mariam,"

he said, hesitatingly, "but I am now so far recovered and so strong that I feel I must no longer trespa.s.s on your goodness."

A grim smile played over her withered old face.

"And whither would you go? Death may await you outside these doors."

"Perhaps that is so," said George, doubtfully, "but I must take my chance."

"I like the young man for his spirit," said the old woman more to herself than her companion. "It is right, but he is a good youth and must not die--life is dear to me, then how much more so to him.

Listen," she went on in unmistakable tones of command, "my son does big trade on the river. He owns many nuggars and dahabiehs which carry wheat and produce down to Alexandria. If you could reach that city in safety, you would find means of leaving the country in a ship."

"But I don't understand; how am I to reach Alexandria?"

"My son will hide you on board one of his boats, and in that way you can escape. Your danger will be great, for although my son is known all along the river, your life will surely pay the forfeit if by any chance you should be discovered."

It was a case of "Hobson's choice." Helmar was glad to accept any means of escape, and eagerly fell in with all the old woman had to say. Bearing out her character for beneficence, Mariam was as good as her word, and arranged all the details for his departure.

The first time Helmar put on his clothes he discovered, to his great delight, the money he had earned at the bookseller's was still in his pocket. This was a surprise, for he had naturally concluded it had been stolen. He now pressed Mariam to take it. But she would have none.

"You'll require that, and more, yourself," she said. So Helmar let the matter drop.

He was unfeignedly sorry to part with his protectress. A sort of filial affection had grown up in him for this woman, and when she came in for the last time, bringing her son with her, George felt that he was about to leave his best friend. On her part, the old woman seemed no less affected, and but for the presence of her son, she would undoubtedly have broken down altogether.

The man in whose guardianship Mariam was about to trust her patient was a powerfully-built fellow of forty. He possessed a strong, honest face of a similar cast to his mother's, although perhaps a shade paler. He was dressed in the ordinary Egyptian garb, and, as his mother presented him, he advanced with outstretched hand and gripped Helmar's in a manner as hearty as it was honest.

"The night is dark, Mussiu," he said, "we must not delay. For the moment the place is quiet, but the riotousness of the people is liable to break out at any moment, and, unless the greatest caution is used, we may be discovered and challenged. Come, let us start, for it is some distance to the river!"

Helmar turned to his nurse. He was deeply affected at parting with the old soul.

"Good-bye, Mariam," he exclaimed. "I can never thank you for all you have done for me. I shall never forget it. Some day perhaps you will allow me to repay you."