The Collected Works of P. C. Wren: Complete Beau Geste Series, Novels & Short Stories. P. C. Wren
the good Hadji, with French support, could become the Emir and the Friend of France. . . .
"Supposing you could enable me to escape," I said when the good Hadji had finished. "I should not do so without the women. Could you effect their escape with me?"
He could not and would not. Here the Holy One spat and quoted the unkind words of the great Arab poet, Imr el Kais:
"One said to me, 'Marry!' I replied, 'I am happy-- Why take to my breast A sackful of serpents? May Allah curse all woman-kind!'"
Two faithful slave-women always slept across the entrance to the anderun, where the girls were. Even if the slaves could be killed silently, it would be impossible to get so big a party away from the place--many camels, much food, girbas of water. . . . No, he could only manage it for me alone.
He could visit me at night and I could leave the tent in his burnous and green turban. . . . He could easily bribe or terrify a certain Arab soldier, now on sentry-go outside, and who was bound to be on duty at my tent again sooner or later. I could simply ride for dear life, with two good camels, and take my chance.
But the women--no. Besides, if it ever came out that he had helped me to escape, it would not be so bad. . . . But as for getting the women away, he simply would not consider it. . . .
No--if I were so extremely anxious about the fate of my two women ("and, Merciful Allah! what are women, that serious men should bother about them?"), the best thing I could do was to consider his firm and generous offer--the heads of the Emir and his Vizier on a charger, and the faithful friendship to France of their successor in power, the Hadji Abdul Salam. . . . The Emir had announced his intention of making the boy-Sheikh not only Sheikh of his Tribe, but eventually Emir of the Confederation also. The Hadji would be the young prince's Spiritual Guide, Tutor, Guardian and Regent--until the time came to cut the lad's throat. . . .
"So Suleiman the Strong is here--and is going to assassinate the Emir, is he?" I said, after we had sat eyeing each other, warily and in silence, for some minutes.
(I must warn the Emir as soon as possible.)
"Yes," replied the Hadji. "And where will you be then, if I am your enemy?"
"Where I am now, I expect," I replied, yawning with a nonchalance wholly affected.
"And your women?" asked the good man.
I ground my teeth, and my fingers itched to seize this scoundrel's throat.
"Take my advice and go," he continued. "Go in the certainty that you will have done what you came for--made an indissoluble and everlasting treaty of alliance between the Franzawi and the Great Confederation, through their real ruler, the Hadji Abdul Salam, Regent for the young Emir after the assassination of the Emir el Hamel el Kebir, impostor and usurper. . . . And if he is not assassinated, no matter--come with an army--and a million francs, of course--kill him, and make the boy nominal Emir. . . . I swear by the Sacred names of God that France shall be as my father and my mother, and I will be France's most obedient child. . . . Go, Sidi, while you can. . . ."
"Get two facts clearly and firmly into your noble mind, Holy One," I replied. "The first is that I do not leave this place without the lady Sitts; and the second is that France has no dealings whatsoever in assassination--nor with assassins!"
Then the reverend gentleman played his trump card.
"You are in even greater danger than you think, Sidi," he murmured, smiling wryly with his mouth and scowling fiercely with his eyes. "And our honourable, gracious and fair-dealing Lord, the Emir el Hamil el Kebir, is but playing with you as the cat with the mouse. . . . For you are not the only mouse in his trap--oh, no! Not by any means. . . . What are Roumi brains against those of the Arabs, the most wise, learned, subtle and ancient of all the races of the earth? . . . Why, you poor fool, there are other messengers from another Power, here, in the Great Oasis--and our fair-spoken Lord gives them audience daily in their camp. . . ."
I sprang to my feet. . . . Could this scoundrel be speaking the truth. . . . A cold fear settled on my heart. . . . What likelihood was there of my leaving this place alive, if this were true and my own folly and madness had driven the Emir into the arms of these agents of some other Power?
My life was nothing--but what of the fate of Mary Vanbrugh, when my throat was cut? . . . I broke out into a cold perspiration, and the fever left me. . . . My brain grew clearer and began to act more quickly. I smiled derisively and shook an incredulous head.
"And supposing I showed you their camp, Sidi?" sneered the Hadji. "Suppose I gave you the opportunity to see a disguised Roumi and to speak to him?"
"Why--then I should be convinced," I replied, and added--"And that would certainly change my--er--attitude toward you and your proposal. . . . When I have seen these men, and spoken with them--you may visit me again, with advantage to your purse. . . ." I must play this foul-feeding fish on a long line, and match his tricks with tricks of my own. If it was to be Roumi brains against Arab brains here also--well, we would see what we should see. . . .
"What manner of man is the leader of these emissaries of another Power?" I asked. "How many of them are there? . . . What is the Emir's attitude . . . ? Tell me all you can. . . . I can buy true information at a high price. . . ."
"So can these others," grinned the pious Hadji. "The leader has already shaken a bag of good fat Turkish medjidies before my eyes, and promised it in return for my help."
"I could shake a bag of something better than that dirty depreciated Turkish rubbish before your eyes, Hadji," I replied, "and pour it into your lap too. . . . Fine new coins of pure gold! French twenty-franc pieces! Beautiful for women's chains and bangles, and even more beautiful to spend on fine raiment, tents, camels, weapons, food, servants, rugs, horses . . ."
The rascal's eyes glittered.
"How many, Sidi?" he asked.
"As many as you earn. . . . As many as your help is worth. . . . Now talk. . . ."
"It is a small caravan, Sidi," began this saintly marabout, "but very well equipped. There is plenty of money behind it. . . . I never saw better camels nor weapons, and their hired camel-men are well-paid and content. . . . I do not know from whom they really come, but they have the blessing of the Father of the Faithful, God's Vicar upon Earth, who rules at Stamboul, and of the Great Sheikh of the Senussi. They say this openly in mejliss--and prove it with documents, passes, firmans and letters--but they talk privately, at night, with the Emir and the Wazir. . . ."
"What do they offer, openly?" I asked.
"The friendship and protection of the King of Kings, the Sultan of the Ottoman Empire, Father of the Faithful, who dwells at Stamboul; and the friendship and alliance of the powerful Sheikh el Senussi. . . . A great Pan-Islamic Alliance is being formed, in readiness for a certain Day of Jehad. . . ."
"And in private?" I asked.
"That I do not know," was the reply. "Only that dog of a Wazir--may swine defile the graves of his ancestors--knoweth the mind of the Emir; and he alone accompanies him to the tents of the Roumi."
"But this I do know," he continued, "they will give me wealth untold if I will poison you and the two Sitts, whom they declare to be female spies of the French--sent to debauch and beguile the Emir with their charms. . . ."
"How do they know of our presence here?" I asked quietly, though my blood boiled.
"Oh, I visit them! . . . I visit them! . . . And we talk. . . . We talk. . . ." replied this treacherous reptile. "They say I might, if I preferred, kill you and seize the Sitts for my hareem for a while, before I either slay them or cut out their tongues. . . . Dumb women are the only discreet ones . . ." and the Hadji laughed merrily.
I managed to smile coldly, while I burned hotly with fierce rage, and changed the subject.
"Are they