The British Mysteries Edition: 14 Novels & 70+ Short Stories. Sapper
I could, and then I had to be firm. I admit that nothing would have pleased me better than to remain there with her in my arms for two or three hours or so. But this world is a censorious place, and the hour was well past midnight. So very gently I insisted that she must either go back to her room, or else spend the night with some woman friend in the hotel.
As luck would have it, the room of a little widow who was a pal of hers was almost opposite mine, and she had no objection to Molly sleeping with her. And to her Molly went, having first driven every coherent thought out of my mind by kissing me.
"When men call me darling," she murmured, "I always kiss them."
"How many men?" I began furiously.
And then the widow's door shut.
* * * * *
I mentioned the matter to the Professor next morning, and, somewhat to my surprise, he took it quite seriously, shaking his head when I said I thought it was merely a dream.
"Possibly, Leyton," he remarked, peering at me thoughtfully, "possibly not. But from what you say Molly seems to have been very upset. I think a change will do her good. What do you say to us all three going to investigate what I was talking to you about last night at dinner? This cult— this ancient religion—let us all start today and go to the place— the secret place—where it still flourishes."
"Have you any idea where it is, Professor?" I asked.
"Between here and Luxor," he answered. "We will take a dahabeah, and the exact place will be shown to me by the man I met in the bazaar yesterday."
"Nothing would give me greater pleasure, Professor," I said. "But do you think," I said, "that even if we find the place the priests will let you see anything?"
"Once we get to the Pool of the Sacred Crocodile," he answered, and his blue eyes were staring at me with almost uncanny brightness, "we shall have no difficulty. But Molly must come—you must see to that."
"I expect your niece would like the trip," I answered. "Anyway, here she is now."
And it was while he was outlining the plan to Molly that I looked up to see Jim Maitland strolling across the lounge.
"Hullo! Dick," came his cheerful voice. "I heard you were stopping here. How goes it?"
I murmured an excuse and followed him to a table a little distance away.
"Who's the girl, old man?" he asked. "She's a corker for looks."
"She's a corker in every way, Jim," I answered.
He grinned suddenly.
"So that's how it lies, is it?" he said. "My congratulations, old Dick. Or is it a little premature?
"It's not actually fixed yet," I said, a bit sheepishly, "but I'm hoping it will be very soon. We're going off today—if we can fix up a dahabeah—with the old bird. He's her uncle, and he's sane on all points except Egyptology. Come and be introduced."
I took him over to the Professor and Molly, and we sat down.
"I think it sounds a lovely trip, don't you, Mr. Maitland? My uncle wants to find some place with a most romantic name. It's called the Pool of the Sacred Crocodile."
Jim stared at her for a moment or two in silence; then, with a slight frown, he turned to the Professor.
"What on earth do you want to go there for, sir?" he asked quietly.
"Do you know it, Mr. Maitland?" cried the Professor eagerly.
"I know of it," said Jim. "I know of it as the headquarters of one of the most secret and abominable cults handed down from ancient Egypt. And I can assure you, Professor," he went on after a little pause, "that you will be wasting your time if you go there." I frowned at him horribly, but, strangely enough, Jim seemed very serious, and paid no attention. "No white man would ever be allowed inside their temple."
The Professor was blinking so fast that his glasses nearly fell off.
"I think I shall be able to arrange it, Mr. Maitland," he said, rubbing his hands together. "You see, I am acquainted with one or two points concerning the ancient history of the cult of which even one of their leading adepts seemed in ignorance. In return for—for what I can give them I am to be allowed to have a copy of the ritual which has been handed down intact for three thousand years."
"Well," said Jim grimly, "all I can say, Professor, is this: If one-tenth of the rumours I have heard is true, the best thing you can do will be to burn the book unread."
But the Professor seemed not to hear. His little, blinking eyes were fixed on Molly, and he was smiling gently to himself.
For a while the conversation became general, and it wasn't until an hour or two later that I was able to ask Jim what he had meant.
"You darned tactless blighter," I said, pushing a Martini in his direction. "What did you try and put the old man off for?"
"Dick," he answered quietly, "you know me pretty well by this time. You know that there aren't many things on two legs or four that I'm frightened of. But I tell you that no power on this earth would induce me willingly to have anything to do with the sect whose secret temple is at the Pool of the Sacred Crocodile. There are stories of unbelievable things which the natives whisper to one another; stories of black magic and devil worship which make one pinch oneself to see if one's awake. There are stories of human sacrifice carried out with the most appalling rites." I stared at him in amazement.
"But, good Lord, old man," I cried, "do you believe them?"
He didn't answer; he was looking over my shoulder.
"Something has happened to Miss Tremayne," he said quietly, and the next instant Molly was beside me.
"Dick," she almost whispered, "he's in the hotel. That native. He was standing outside the door of my room again—just now—as I was packing. I looked out into the passage, and there he was,' staring, just the same as last night."
"I'll go and see if I can find the scoundrel," I cried, and dashed upstairs.
But the passage was empty. And I was just going down again, when the door of the Professor's room opened and he peered out.
"Hullo!" I said. "I thought you were out making arrangements for a dahabeah."
"I have made them," he answered curtly. "We start this afternoon."
He shut the door again abruptly, and I went down to the bar feeling very thoughtful. For over the Professor's head, reflected in a mirror on the other side of the room, I had seen a native. For a moment our eyes had met, then he had vanished. And a vague fear took possession of me. I felt as if I were moving in deep waters, and a sudden distaste for the proposed trip filled my mind.
It was just before we left that Jim took me on one side.
"Whatever you do, Dick," he said gravely, "don't let Miss Tremayne out of either your sight or her uncle's once you get to your destination. One of you must always be with her."
"What on earth are you frightened of, Jim?" I demanded. "I don't know, old man," he answered. "That's the devil of it—I don't know."
The boat was a comfortable one, and for two days we went slowly towards Luxor, tying up at night. We hardly saw the Professor, except at meals, and then he barely spoke. He sat sunk in thought, shooting strange little bird-like glances at Molly until she got quite annoyed with him.
"Uncle John, I do wish you wouldn't keep looking at me like that," she cried. "I feel as if you were a canary, and I was a bit of bird-seed."
There was no disguising the fact that the Professor was in a very queer mood. It was towards the evening of the second day that he appeared on deck with a pair of field-glasses. His hands were trembling with excitement as he searched the left bank of the river.
"We are there," he shouted. "We have arrived."
He gave a frenzied order to 'the Captain, who swung his helm over and steered