The Complete Works of H. C. McNeile "Sapper". Sapper
wonder where Mr. Maitland is," she said thoughtfully. "He must be somewhere about to have left that note. What are we going to do, Dick?"
"That's just the point, darling; what are we going to do? Your uncle will never..."
The same thought occurred to both of us simultaneously.
"I'll go and look for him, darling," I said, with a great deal more assurance than I really felt. "He's probably forgotten that we even exist."
"Then I'm coming too," she said quietly, and nothing I could say would dissuade her.
But this time our fears proved groundless. Hardly had we entered the orange grove on the way to the house, when we saw the Professor coming towards us. He was muttering to himself, and under his arm he carried a large book.
"We thought you were lost, Professor," I said, as he came up to us.
He peered at us vaguely, as if he hardly recognised who w were. Then, without even answering, he went past us, and we saw him go below. And in the still evening air we heard the sound of a door shutting.
"'You were right, Dick," said Molly. "We simply don't exist at the moment."
"I'm afraid we've got to," I said gravely. "I can't help it if I do incur your uncle's wrath, my dear, but he must be told about the state of affairs. I'm going to have it out with him."
I went below to his cabin and knocked at the door.
"Professor," I cried, "I must have a talk with you. A very serious thing has happened."
I heard him muttering to himself inside, and after a while the door opened about two inches and he peered out. "Go away," he said irritably. "I'm busy."
"Then it's got to wait," I said sternly, and put my foot behind the door to prevent his shutting it. "You've got the rest of your life in which to study that book; but what the duration will amount to unless you listen to me, I can't say."
I intended to frighten him, and apparently I succeeded, for he opened the door and I stepped into his cabin. "What do you mean?" he said nervously.
"Well, in the first place, the whole of the crew and the Captain have deserted."
"Oh! I know—I know," he cried peevishly. "They'll all come back tomorrow."
"How did you know?" I said, staring at him in surprise. He blinked at me for a second or two, and then he looked away.
"One of the priests told me that they had gone," he said at length.
In an instant all my worst fears came crowding back into my mind.
"Now, look here, Professor," I said quietly, "please pay attention to me, and very close attention. But you've got to remember that we have on board here a girl who is your niece, and who is going to be my wife. Now I have the best of reasons for believing that the very gravest danger threatens us tonight. I believe that the desertion of the crew is all part of a deep-laid scheme concocted by the priests up in that house to keep us here tonight. I suggest, therefore, that we should cast off, and drift down stream. We shall go aground sooner or later; but, at any rate, we shan't be sitting at these people's front door."
"Quite impossible, Leyton," he cried angrily. "Out of the question. I'm amazed that you should even suggest such a thing. The most ancient ritual of the cult is being given tonight for my special benefit. Do you suppose "—and he lashed himself into almost a fury—"that I have gone to the expense of hiring a dahabeah, and coming all the way from Cairo, just to let the boat drift on to a sandbank? What danger are you frightened of? You talk like an hysterical girl."
And Jim's words spoken in Cairo came back to me.
"I don't know, old man. That's the devil of it; I don't know."
And now, confronted by the excited little man, I felt the most infernal fool. If only I had had one definite thing to go on. But I hadn't— with the solitary exception of the crew's desertion. That, and Jim's roughly scrawled note. And to both of them the Professor turned a deaf ear.
"Ridiculous," he snorted. "The Captain was allowed ashore to attend the celebrations which always accompany this ceremonial, and the crew have taken French leave and, gone too." And then suddenly his manner changed, and he smiled almost benevolently. "Believe me, my dear fellow—you exaggerate tremendously. Do you think for one moment that I would allow my dear niece to run into any danger? There is no suggestion that she should come tonight—or you. You can stay with her and guard her against any possible harm."
He dug me playfully in the ribs.
"That ought not to be an unpleasant task, my boy," he chuckled. "And now, off you go, and let me study this book of ritual. Time is all too short as it is."
And with that I had to be content. I heard him lock his door behind me, and then I joined Molly on deck. Night, had come down, and the faint scent of the orange trees filled the air. Briefly I told her what her uncle had said, and when' I had finished she slipped her hand into mine.
"Don't let's worry, Dick," she whispered. "Let him go to his old crocodile, while we sit and watch the sun rise over the desert."
And after a while I forgot my fear, I forgot Jim's warning, I forgot everything except—
However, there is no prize for the correct answer.
And now I come to the thing that happened that night at the Pool of the Sacred Crocodile.
It was just as Molly and I were beginning to think about dinner, and had decided to go and forage for ourselves, that Abdullah, the steward, suddenly appeared in front of us and announced that it was ready.
"Where the devil have you been?" I cried angrily. "I searched all over the place for you an hour or so ago."
He was profuse in his apologies and explanations, and though I was far from satisfied there was nothing to be done about it. Dinner was ready and we sat down to it.
"What about Uncle John?" said Molly.
It appeared that he had given strict orders not to be disturbed, and so we waited no longer. The cook, Abdullah's brother, was a good cook, and in spite of his absence earlier in the evening he had prepared a good dinner. In fact, by the time we had reached the Turkish coffee stage I was feeling quite at peace with the world. Turkish coffee was our cook's speciality, and on that particular night he excelled himself. Even Molly remarked on it as Abdullah refilled her cup.
Of course it was in my coffee—the particular drug they used. What it was I don't know, though it must have been practically tasteless. Whatever it was they put it in my coffee, and not in Molly's. And as long as I live I shall never forget the supreme mental agony of those few seconds after the realisation of what had happened came to me.
Molly was staring out of the open doors into the wonderful desert night. I could see her sweet profile; I could see a sudden little tender smile hover round her lips. And then I made a desperate effort to stand up. I stood there for a second or two clutching the table, making inarticulate attempts to speak. And then I crashed back in my chair, dragging the table-cloth with me.
"Dick, Dick! What's the matter?"
I heard her voice crying from a great distance, and I made another futile effort to speak. But it was useless; she was getting hazier and hazier, though I could still see her like a badly focused photograph. And then suddenly she gave a little scream, and shrank back against the side of the saloon. She was no longer looking at me but into the darkness outside.
"Uncle John!" she screamed. "Uncle John! Save me!"
And then she rushed to me and clung to my chair. Oh God! the agony of that moment, when I realised I couldn't protect her—that I was just a useless drugged log. Hazily, through the fumes of the dope, I realised what was coming: I knew whom she had seen coming to her out of the night. And I was right—only there were three of them this time. They stood on the other side of the table—the man who had been in Cairo in the centre, the man who had met us on the landing-stage on his right, and one I had not seen on his left. They were all three dressed in