The British Mysteries Edition: 14 Novels & 70+ Short Stories. Sapper
of those sons of the desert it was difficult to believe that he was an Englishman at all.
And then one day he disappeared. Mysteriously from somewhere had arrived the necessary clothes; as I have said there was a Staff officer in Valetta who had played the game himself. And to him I went for further information. But they're an uncommunicative lot—the players, and beyond a vague allusion to Tripoli the Staff Officer was noncommittal.
"The season will be beginning soon in Cairo," he remarked. "A P. & 0. is calling tomorrow. Why not go and wait there?"
"Have you any idea how long he will be?" I asked.
"Two months: six! Who knows? You might return the bell tent to Ordnance, will you?"
* * * * *
And so I went back to Cairo and waited. It was then that I had met Mrs. Dallas. Little by little she came back to me—a charming, attractive widow with subalterns buzzing round her like flies round a jam-pot. And it was there, of course, that she must have met Hounslow: he was out there at the time on some Government investigation. But that was all I ever knew, and I told Jim so as we sat in the garden having tea after the incident of the opening of the hospital.
Jim grinned, and proceeded to fill his pipe.
"Well, on the understanding that it goes no farther, I'll gratify your vulgar curiosity," he remarked. "After all, it's ancient history now, but there's no good stirring up mud, even if it were possible to do so. Presumably Sir George Hounslow is satisfied with his bargain, and it would be a pity to disillusion him. Though had he known at the time what I knew, infatuated though he was, I think that he would have thought twice about marrying her. I debated in my mind whether I'd tell him, and finally decided not to. There's quite enough trouble in this world already without making more, and anyway he wouldn't have believed me.
"You know, of course, what the situation was at that time. No? I thought it was pretty widely discussed by the Army out there. Well, in brief, though this point has nothing to do with Mrs. Dallas as she then was, the Germans had begun their tricks. They were working tooth and nail for a Jehad to take place in August 1914. A general revolt of Islam to coincide with the world war was their idea, and it is significant that one of their agents mentioned the actual date to me, eighteen months before. He thought he was talking to a fanatical Mahomedan and he became a little indiscreet.
"However, my job when I left you in Malta was a general contre-espionage one. To find out just how widespread the influence was and feel the pulse of the natives. There were ten of us on it, and between us we got in eight reports. Not bad going, especially as the two who were murdered were not really up to the standard required—poor devils. But that's another story altogether; let's get down to my Lady Hounslow.
"He was known as No. 10—the man who lived many days' journey up the White Nile. Who he was exactly, no one knew; at least if anyone did it was not shouted abroad. Officially his name was Brown, and he was new to me. But I found that everyone else who was on the game knew him, and I also found that headquarters in Cairo placed great reliance on him.
"Three years previously he had suddenly appeared on the scenes out of the blue, and there he had remained ever since—buried. With the help of a little quinine and a few simple medicines he had established a big reputation as a doctor amongst the natives. And the Powers That Be kept him supplied with those medicines—because a reputation of that sort amongst the natives is a valuable asset when it is held by the right man.
"It was Victor Head, I think, who first discovered that he was the right sort of man. He ran across him by accident, and got from him some information which at first sight seemed to be not only unlikely but absurd. And it turned out to be correct. Then another fellow sampled him, and once again he put up the goods. Certain inquiries were made, and in due course he became Number 10. I confess I was a little anxious to see him. He was quite a young man, I gathered, and it seemed strange for a young man to bury himself in such a way, however much he might be actuated by a desire to serve his country.
"And so, in due course, I met him. He was doctoring a couple of natives at the time, and having given him the usual Arab greeting, and the sign by which those in the game can recognise one another, I sat down on the ground and studied him. I placed him at about five and thirty—a thin, wiry, sunburnt man. To all outward appearance he seemed fit and healthy, but there was something about him—it was his eyes, I think—that made me wonder whether the man called Brown would have been accepted by an insurance company as a first-class life.
"The natives departed in due course, and having gone through the customary formalities of meeting for the benefit of possible onlookers, I rose and followed him into his house.
"'You're new,' he said when we were alone.
"'New to you,' I answered, but not to the game, though I haven't been on it for some years.'
"And for a while we discussed matters irrelevant to this story. It was not until he had completed his self-imposed job that Number 10 allowed himself to turn to matters personal.
"'Are you going back to Cairo direct?' he asked, and when I told him I was he began walking up and down the room with quick, excited steps.
"'Will you do something for me? he cried.
"'Of course,' I answered. What is it?'
"'There's a girl in Cairo,' he said, and his voice was shaking a little. 'Her name is Dallas—Mrs. Dallas—and I've just heard that she arrived there a month ago. Will you find her for me, and say to her, "Jack is waiting. It is quite safe."'
"Then he paused suddenly and stared at me.
"'They are pleased with me, aren't they, at headquarters? I've done pretty well?'
"'Very,' I answered, feeling a little puzzled at what all the mystery was about. As far as I know they're delighted with your work.'
"'I mean, I'm useful to them. They—they won't let me be taken away.'
"'Who is there to take you away?' I asked, staring at him. The perspiration was glistening on his face, and his hands were trembling. 'It strikes me, Brown,' I went on quietly, 'that you're not too fit. You dish out medicine to these natives, when somebody ought to be doing the same to you.'
"'It's nothing,' he cried. 'I'm all right. If only I didn't get these awful night sweats.'
"Then suddenly he started to cough, and I didn't need to be a doctor to tell what was the matter with him. He'd got consumption—and he'd got it badly.
"'I want you to tell her,' he gasped when he'd recovered from the paroxysm, that it is quite safe. Impress it on her—that there's no danger. She will understand what you mean.'
"'All right,' I said. 'I will certainly do what you ask.'
"'You see,' he said quietly, 'she is my wife.'
"I sat up and stared at him.
"'Your wife?' I echoed. 'Then why the deuce don't you go to Cairo yourself, my dear fellow?'
"'I can't,' he answered; 'I daren't. But when she knows it's safe—impress that on her, don't forget—she'll come here. I suppose,' he went on diffidently, 'you couldn't help her over arrangements for the journey, could you?'
"I assured him that I would do everything I could to assist the lady, and the poor devil was pathetically grateful. After all it was none of my business. There are quite a number of men called Brown dotted about in odd corners, whose wives if they possessed one would not answer the name. I stayed on with him as long as I could, consistently with my role of Arab, and I let him talk. He could think of nothing except his wife, and in view of the fact that he hadn't seen her for four years it was hardly surprising. Once or twice I tried to mention his health, but he waved the matter aside. A bit of a cough— that was all, and everything was going to be perfect when his wife arrived. And his parting injunction to me was a repetition of the fact that there was no danger.
"'She ought to be here in a month,' were his last words, and I left him to his dreams—the man who called himself Brown."
Jim paused and knocked out