The Complete Works of H. C. McNeile "Sapper". Sapper
landing-stage badly, as the men, huddled together forward, refused to use a boat-hook or make her fast. It was left to the Captain and me to tie her up, and it struck me that the Captain himself had no liking for his berthing place.
His eyes continually came round to the tall native who had stepped on board the instant we came alongside. A few yards away the Professor and the native were talking earnestly together, and Molly slipped her hand through my arm.
"Dick," she whispered, "I'm frightened. Don't leave me. That man has been looking at me just like that brute did at Shepheard's. I wish we'd never come."
I soothed her, though I didn't feel too happy in my own mind. Suddenly the Professor came over to me.
"We are in luck," he said, and his eyes were gleaming. "We are to be allowed to see the sacred crocodile at once." Molly drew back.
"I don't think I want to, Uncle John," she said. "You go—and stop here with Dick."
"Don't be ridiculous, child," he snapped. "It is what we have come here for. You will see a sight that no white woman has seen for a thousand years; the inner temple of one of the sister cults of Ammon Ra. Come at once."
He led the way, and after a moment's hesitation Molly followed.
"We'd better humour him, Dick," she whispered.
The native who had awaited us on the landing led the way towards the house half hidden in the trees, with the Professor shaking with excitement just behind him, and Molly and I bringing up the rear. She was still clinging to my arm, and I could feel that she was trembling.
Our guide stalked slowly on towards the house. He knocked three times on the door and it swung open, slowly, of its own accord and he stood aside to let us enter. In front lay a long stone passage, lit with innumerable lamps and hung with tapestries which even to my inexperienced eye were literally without price.
Braziers sent forth choking clouds of incense which almost stifled one, but in spite of the overpowering fumes there was another smell which assailed one—a cloying, horrible smell. At first I couldn't place it: then I realised that it was the odour of musk.
Our guide stalked slowly on, while the Professor darted from side to side staring at the hangings on the walls. And then another door opened slowly, and Molly and I stopped with a gasp of disgust.
For in an instant the smell of musk had become an overpowering stench. And once again the guide stood on one side to let us pass through. It was the actual pool itself that lay in front.
It was hewn out of a sort of sandstone rock. A gallery some two yards wide stretched right round the walls at the same level as we were standing; while directly opposite us, on the other side of the pool, a heavy curtain concealed what appeared to be another door.
In each corner there sat a motionless priest, cross-legged, in front of a burning brazier; and swinging from the centre of the roof was a marvellous old lamp which provided the only light. Cut into the walls were various Egyptian designs, which roused the Professor to the verge of frenzy in his excitement. And, finally, just in front of us there stuck out over the pool a thing that looked like a diving-board. It shone yellow in the light, and with a sort of dull amazement I realised that it was solid gold.
"The actual platform of death," whispered the Professor in my ear. "Thousands of victims have stepped off that into the pool. And to think that we are the first white people to see it."
"Good God!" I muttered. "Human sacrifice."
But the Professor was engrossed in some hieroglyphics on the wall. And the next instant I heard Molly give a shuddering gasp beside me.
"Look, Dick, look! Over there in the corner."
Just rising above the surface was a thing that looked like a motionless baulk of wood. Suddenly, clear and distinct, a bell chimed out. As if in answer to a signal there was a swirl in the black, oily liquid of the pool, a vast head and snout showed for a moment above the surface, and I had a glimpse of the most enormous crocodile I have ever seen. And the baulk of wood was no longer there.
With an effort I took my eyes away from the pool and looked up. The curtain opposite had been pulled aside, and a man was standing there staring at Molly. He was clad in some gorgeous garment, but it was not at his clothes that I was looking, it was at the sinister, evil face.
And as I looked I heard Molly's voice as if from a distance. "Take me away, Dick, take me away! There's that awful native again, who haunted me at Shepheard's."
And it was also the native whom I had seen reflected in the mirror in Professor John Gainsford's room.
He disappeared as suddenly as he had come and Molly gave a sigh of relief.
"Let's get out, Dick, for goodness' sake," she said urgently.
I was only too glad to agree. The door behind us was open, and through it we went, intent only on escaping into God's fresh air. Not until we were clear of the entrance door, with the scent of the orange trees around us, did we breathe freely again.
"Dick—what an awful house!" said Molly, drawing in great gulps of fresh air.
"It was pretty fierce," I agreed. "By the way, where is the Professor?"
Molly laughed.
"It would take more than a bad smell to get him away. But nothing on this earth would induce me to go inside again—nothing. Did you see that man, Dick—the one on the other side of the pool?"
"I saw him," I answered briefly.
"What was he doing in Cairo? And why is he here dressed like that?" She gave a little shudder, and stared across the Nile. "Dick, you may think it fanciful of me and silly, but inside that house just now I felt as if I were in the presence of something incredibly evil. I felt it before that man came in—but I felt it a thousand times more as he stood there."
I nodded gravely.
"If half the rumours I've heard, dear, are true, I'm not surprised. Personally, I couldn't get beyond the smell, but some pretty dreadful things have happened in that house. You saw that gold inlaid board in front of you stretching out over the pool? Well, that is the identical board, according to your uncle, from which human victims have been sacrificed to the crocodile."
"Dick—it can't be true," she whispered, her eyes dilating with horror.
"Incredible as it may seem, darling, I believe it is true." She shuddered again and I slipped my arm round her waist.
"Don't worry your head about it any more, sweetheart," I said gently. "Let's go on board and get something to wash this filthy taste out of our mouths."
We walked down to the little landing-stage and stepped on to the dahabeah. The boat seemed strangely quiet and deserted, but it was only after I had pressed the bell in the little dining-room three times without any result that I began to feel uneasy. I went into the pantry and kitchen, and there was no sign of either cook or steward. I went on deck again to find the Captain, and his cabin was empty. Finally I went to the crew's quarters and peered in; there was not a soul to be seen. The crew had deserted the boat, lock, stock, and barrel.
A step behind me on the deck made me look round. Molly was coming towards me with a letter in her hand.
"It was on the sideboard, Dick," she said. "Addressed to you."
I glanced at it; to my amazement the handwriting was Jim's. And the note inside was laconic and to the point:
"Get out of this at once. Don't spend the night here on any account."
"What is it, Dick?" she asked, looking at me steadily.
I handed her the slip of paper without comment.
"It's from Jim Maitland," I said, when she had read it. "And when Jim tells you to do something, there is generally a pretty good reason for doing it. Unfortunately, the whole crew—including the precious Captain—have chosen this moment to depart."
Molly heard the news without turning a hair.
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