The Ivory Trail, Page 2

  CHAPTER TWO

  THE NJO HAPA SONG

  Gleam, oh brighter than jewels! gleam my swinging stars in the opal dark, Mirrored along wi' the fire-fly dance of 'longshore light and off-shore mark, The roof-lamps and the riding lights, and phosphor wake of ship and shark.

  I was old when the fires of Arab ships (All seas were lawless then!) Abode the tide where liners ride To-day, and Malays then,-- Old when the bold da Gama came With culverin and creed To trade where Solomon's men fought, And plunder where the banyans bought, I sighed when the first o' the slaves were brought, And laughed when the last were freed.

  Deep, oh deeper than anchors drop, the bones o' the outbound sailors lie, Far, oh farther than breath o' wind the rumors o' fabled fortune fly, And the 'venturers yearn from the ends of earth, for none o' the isles is as fair as I!

  The enormous map of Africa loses no lure or mystery from the fact ofnearness to the continent itself. Rather it increases. In the hotupper room that night, between the wreathing smoke of oil lamps, wepored over the large scale map Monty had saved from the wreck alongwith our money drafts and papers.

  The atmosphere was one of bygone piracy. The great black ceilingbeams, heavy-legged table of two-inch planks, floor laid like a dhow'sdeck--making utmost use of odd lengths of timber, but strong enough tostand up under hurricanes and overloads of plunder, or to batten downrebellious slaves--murmurings from rooms below, where men of every racethat haunts those shark-infested seas were drinking and telling talesthat would make Munchhausen's reputation--steaminess, outer darkness,spicy equatorial smells and, above all, knowledge of the nature of thecoming quest united to veil the map in fascination.

  No man gifted with imagination better than a hot-cross bun's could bein Zanzibar and not be conscious of the lure that made adventurers ofmen before the first tales were written. Old King Solomon's tradersmust have made it their headquarters, just as it was Sindbad theSailor's rendezvous and that of pirates before he or Solomon were bornor thought of. Vasco da Gama, stout Portuguese gentleman adventurer,conquered it, and no doubt looted the godowns to a lively tune. Waveafter wave of Arabs sailed to it (as they do today) from that otherland of mystery, Arabia; and there isn't a yard of coral beach,cocoanut-fringed shore, clove orchard, or vanilla patch--not a lemontree nor a thousand-year-old baobab but could tell of battle andintrigue; not a creek where the dhows lie peacefully today but couldwhisper of cargoes run by night--black cargoes, groaning fretfully andsmelling of the 'tween-deck lawlessness.

  "There are two things that have stuck in my memory that Lord Salisburyused to say when I was an Eton boy, spending a holiday at HatfieldHouse," said Monty. "One was, Never talk fight unless you mean fight;then fight, don't talk. The other was, Always study the largest maps."

  "Who's talking fight?" demanded Fred.

  Monty ignored him. "Even this map isn't big enough to give a real ideaof distances, but it helps. You see, there's no railway beyondVictoria Nyanza. Anything at all might happen in those great spacesbeyond Uganda. Borderlands are quarrel-grounds. I should say thejunction of British, Belgian, and German territory where Arab loot liesburied is the last place to dally in unarmed. You fellows 'ud betterscour Zanzibar in the morning for the best guns to be had here."

  So I went to bed at midnight with that added stuff for building dreams.He who has bought guns remembers with a thrill; he who has not, hasin store for him the most delightful hours of life. May he fall, asour lot was, on a gunsmith who has mended hammerlocks for Arabs, andwho loves rifles as some greater rascals love a woman or a horse.

  We all four strolled next morning, clad in the khaki reachmedowns thata Goanese "universal provider" told us were the "latest thing," into aden between a camel stable and an even mustier-smelling home of gloom,where oxen tied nose-to-tail went round and round, grinding out semsemeverlastingly while a lean Swahili sang to them. When he ceased, theystopped. When he sang, they all began again.

  In a bottle-shaped room at the end of a passage squeezed between thosetwo centers of commerce sat the owner of the gun-store, part Arab, partItalian, part Englishman, apparently older than sin itself, toothless,except for one yellow fang that lay like an ornament over his lowerlip, and able to smile more winningly than any siren of the sidewalk.Evidently he shaved at intervals, for white stubble stood out a thirdof an inch all over his wrinkled face. The upper part of his head wasutterly bald, slippery, shiny, smooth, and adorned by an absurd, roundIndian cap, too small, that would not stay in place and had to behitched at intervals.

  He said his name was Captain Thomas Cook, and the license to sellfirearms framed on the mud-brick wall bore him witness. (May he liveforever under any name he chooses!)

  "Goons?" he said. "Goons? You gentlemen want goons? I have the goonwhat settled the hash of Sayed bin Mohammed--here it be. This otherone's the rifle--see the nicks on her butt!--that Kamarajes the Greekused. See 'em--Arab goons--slaver goons--smooth-bore elephantgoons--fours, eights, twelves--Martinis--them's the lot that wasreekin' red-hot, days on end, in the last Arab war on the Congo,considerable used up but goin' cheap;--then here's Mausers (hepronounced it "Morsers")--old-style, same as used in 1870--good goonsthey be, long o' barrel and strong, but too high trajectory for somefolks;--some's new style, magazines an' all--fine till a grain o' sandjams 'em oop;--an' Lee-Enfields, souvenirs o' the Boer War, some o'them bought from folks what plundered a battle-field or two--mostly allin good condition. Look at this one--see it--hold it--take a squintalong it! Nineteen elephants shot wi' that Lee-Enfield, an' the man'sin jail for shootin' of 'em! Sold at auction by the gov'ment, that onewas. See, here's an Express--a beauty--owned by an officer fr'mIndy--took by a shark 'e was, in swimmin' against all advice, him whathad hunted tigers! There's no goon store a quarter as good as mine'tween Cairo an' the Cape or Bombay an-' Boma! Captain Cook's the boyto sell ye goons all right! Sit down. Look 'em over. Ask anything yewant to know. I'll tell ye. No obligation to buy."

  There is no need to fit out with guns and tents in London. Until bothgood and bad, both cowardly and brave give up the habit of dying inbed, or getting killed, or going broke, or ending up in jail for onecause and the other, there will surely always be fine pickings for menon the spot with a little money and a lot of patience--guns, tents,cooking pots, and all the other things.

  We spent a morning with Captain Thomas Cook, and left the store--Fred,Yerkes and I--with a battery of weapons, including a pistolapiece--that any expedition might be proud of. (Monty, since he had togo home in any case, preferred to look over the family gun-room beforecommitting himself.)

  Then, since the first leg of the journey would be the same for all ofus we bought other kit, packed it, and booked passages for British EastAfrica. Between then and the next afternoon when the British Indiasteamboat sailed we were fairly bombarded by inquisitiveness, butcontrived not to tell much. And with patience beyond belief Montyrestrained us from paying court to Tippoo Tib.

  "The U. S. Consul says he's better worth a visit than most of theworld's museums," Yerkes assured us two or three times. "He saysTippoo Tib's a fine old sport--damned rogue--slave-hunter, but whitesomewhere near the middle. What's the harm in our having a chin withhim?"

  But Monty was adamant.

  "A call on him would prove nothing, but he and his friends wouldsuspect. Spies would inform the German government. No. Let's act asif Tippoo Tib were out of mind."

  We grumbled, but we yielded. Hassan came again, shiny with sweat andvoluble with offers of information and assistance.

  "Where you gentlemen going?" he kept asking.

  "England," said Monty, and showed his own steamer ticket in proof ofit.

  That settled Hassan for the time but Georges Coutlass was not so easy.He came swaggering upstairs and thumped on Monty's door with the air ofa bearer of king's messages.

  "What do you intend to do?"
he asked. (We were all sitting on Monty'sbed, and it was Yerkes who opened the door.)

  "Do you an injury," said Yerkes, "unless you take your foot away!" TheGreek had placed it deftly to keep the door open pending hisconvenience.

  "Let him have his say" advised Monty from the bed.

  "Where are you going? Hassan told me England. Are you all going toEngland? If so, why have you bought guns? What will you do with sixrifles, three shot-guns, and three pistols on the London streets? Whatwill you do with tents in London? Will you make campfires in RegentCircus, that you take with you all those cooking pots? And all thatrice, is that for the English to eat? Bah! No tenderfoot can fool me!You go to find my ivory, d'you hear! You think to get away with itunknown to me! I tell you I have sharp ears! By Jingo; there isnothing I can not find out that goes on in Africa! You think to cheatme? Then you are as good as dead men! You shall die like dogs! Iwill smithereen the whole damned lot of you before you touch a tusk!"

  "Get out of here!" growled Yerkes.

  "Give him a chance to go quietly, Will," urged Monty, and Coutlassheard him. Peaceful advice seemed the last spark needed to explode hiscrowded magazines of fury. He clenched his fists--spat because thewords would not flow fast enough--and screamed.

  "Give me a chance, eh? A chance, eh?" Other doors began opening, andthe appearance of an audience stimulated him to further peaks of rage."The only chance I need is a sight of your carcasses within range, anda long range will do for Georges Coutlass!" He glared past Yerkes atMonty who had risen leisurely. "You call yourself a lord? I call youa thief! A jackal!"

  "Here, get out!" growled Yerkes, self-constituted Cerberus.

  "I will go when I damned please, you Yankee jackanapes!" the Greekretorted through set teeth. Yerkes is a free man, able and willing toshoulder his own end of any argument. He closed, and the Greek's ribscracked under a vastly stronger hug than he had dreamed of expecting.But Coutlass was no weakling either, and though he gasped he gatheredhimself for a terrific effort.

  "Come on!" said Monty, and went past me through the door like a boltfrom a catapult. Fred followed me, and when he saw us both out on thelanding Monty started down the stairs.

  "Come on!" he called again.

  We followed, for there is no use in choosing a leader if you don'tintend to obey him, even on occasions when you fail at once tounderstand. There was one turn on the wide stairs, and Monty stoodthere, back to the wall.

  "Go below, you fellows, and catch!" he laughed. "We don't want Willjailed for homicide!"

  The struggle was fierce and swift. Coutlass searched with a thumb forWill's eye, and stamped on his instep with an iron-shod heel. But hewas a dissolute brute, and for all his strength Yerkes' cleaner livingvery soon told. Presently Will spared a hand to wrench at theambitious thumb, and Coutlass screamed with agony. Then he began tosway this way and that without volition of his own, yielding hisbalance, and losing it again and again. In another minute Yerkes hadhim off his feet, cursing and kicking.

  "Steady, Will!" called Monty from below; but it was altogether toolate for advice. Will gathered himself like a spring, and hurled theGreek downstairs backward.

  Then the point of Monty's strategy appeared. He caught him, saved himfrom being stunned against the wall, and, before the Greek couldrecover sufficiently to use heels and teeth or whisk out the knife hekept groping for, hurled him a stage farther on his journey--faceforward this time down to where Fred and I were waiting. We kicked himout into the street too dazed to do anything but wander home.

  "Are you hurt, Will?" laughed Monty. "This isn't the States, you know;by gad, they'll jail you here if you do your own police work! Insteadof Brussels I'd have had to stay and hire lawyers to defend you!"

  "Aw--quit preaching!" Yerkes answered. "If I hadn't seen you there onthe stairs with your mouth open I'd have been satisfied to put him downand spank him!"

  It was then that the much more unexpected struck us speechless--evenMonty for the moment, who is not much given to social indecision. Wehad not known there was a woman guest in that hotel. One does not lookin Zanzibar for ladies with a Mayfair accent unaccompanied by menfolkable to protect them. Yet an indubitable Englishwoman, expensively ifcarelessly dressed, came to the head of the stairs and stood besideYerkes looking down at the rest of us with a sort of well bred, rathertolerant scorn.

  "Am I right in believing this is Lord Montdidier?" she asked,pronouncing the word as it should be--Mundidger.

  She had been very beautiful. She still was handsome in a hard-lipped,bold way, with abundant raven hair and a complexion that would havebeen no worse for a touch of rouge. She seemed to scorn all theconventional refinements, though. Her lacy white dress, open at theneck, was creased and not too clean, but she wore in her bosom onegreat jewel like a ruby, set in brilliants, that gave the lie topoverty provided the gems were real. And the amber tube through whichshe smoked a cigarette was seven or eight inches long and had diamondsset in a gold band round its middle. She wore no wedding ring that Icould see; and she took no more notice of Will Yerkes beside her thanif he had been a part of the furniture.

  "Why do you ask?" asked Monty, starting upstairs. She had to make wayfor him, for Will Yerkes stood his ground.

  "A fair question!" she laughed. Her voice had a hard ring, but wasvery well trained and under absolute control. I received theimpression that she had been a singer at some time. "I am Lady SaffrenWaldon--Isobel Saffren Waldon."

  Fred and I had followed Monty up and were close behind him. I heardhim mutter, "Oh, lord!" under his breath.

  "I knew your brother," she added.

  "I know you did."

  "You think that gives me no claim on your acquaintance? Perhaps itdoesn't. But as an unprotected woman--"

  "There is the Residency," objected Monty, "and the law."

  She laughed bitterly. "Thank you, I am in need of no passage home! Ioverheard that ruffian say, and I think I heard you say too that youare going to England. I want you to take a message for me."

  "There is a post-office here," said Monty without turning a hair. Helooked straight into her iron eyes. "There is a cable station. I willlend you money to cable with."

  "Thank you, my Lord!" she sneered. "I have money. I am so used tobeing snubbed that my skin would not feel a whip! I want you to take averbal message!"

  It was perfectly evident that Monty would rather have met the devil inperson than this untidy dame; yet he was only afraid apparently ofconceding her too much claim on his attention. (If she had askedfavors of me I don't doubt I would have scrambled to be useful. Ibegan mentally taking her part, wondering why Monty should treat her socavalierly; and I fancy Yerkes did the same.)

  "Tell me the message, and I'll tell you whether I'll take it," saidMonty.

  She laughed again, even more bitterly.

  "If I could tell it on these stairs," she answered, "I could cable it.They censor cablegrams, and open letters in this place."

  "I suspect that isn't true," said Monty. "But if you object towitnesses, how do you propose to deliver your message to me?" he askedpointedly.

  "You mean you refuse to speak with me alone?"

  "My friends would draw out of earshot," he answered.

  "Your friends? Your gang, you mean!" She drew herself up veryfinely--very stately. Very lovely she was to look at in thathalf-light, with the shadows of Tippoo Tib's* old stairway hiding hertale of years. But I felt my regard for her slipping downhill (and so,I rather think did Yerkes). "You look well, Lord Montdidier, trapesingabout the earth with a leash of mongrels at your heel! Falstaff neverpicked up a more sordid-looking pack! What do you feed them--bones?Are there no young bloods left of your own class, that you need travelwith tradesmen?"

  -------------* The principal hotel In Zanzibar was formerly Tippoo Tib's residence,quite a magnificent mansion for that period and place.-------------

  Monty stood with both hands behind him and never turned a
hair. FredOakes brushed up the ends of that troubadour mustache of his and struckmore or less of an attitude. Will reddened to the ears, and I neverfelt more uncomfortable in all my life.

  "So this is your gang, is it?" she went on. "It looks sober atpresent! I suppose I must trust you to control them! I dare say eventavern brawlers respect you sufficiently to keep a lady's secret if youorder them. I will hope they have manhood enough to hold theirtongues!"

  Of course, dressed in the best that Zanzibar stores had to offer wescarcely looked like fashion plates. My shirt was torn where Coutlasshad seized it to resist being thrown out, but I failed to see what shehoped to gain by that tongue lashing, even supposing we had been thelackeys she pretended to believe we were.

  "The message is to my brother," she went on.

  "I don't know him!" put in Monty promptly.

  "You mean you don't like him! Your brother had him expelled from twoor three clubs, and you prefer not to meet him! Nevertheless, I giveyou this message to take to him! Please tell him--you will find him athis old address--that I, his sister, Lady Saffren Waldon, know now thesecret of Tippoo Tib's ivory. He is to join me here at once, and wewill get it, and sell it, and have money, and revenge! Will you tellhim that!"

  "No!" answered Monty.

  I looked at Yerkes, Yerkes looked at Fred, and Fred at me.

  There was nothing to do but feel astonished.

  "Why not, if you please?"

  "I prefer not to meet Captain McCauley," said Monty.

  "Then you will give the message to somebody else?" she insisted.

  "No" said Monty. "I will carry no message for you."

  "Why do you say that? How dare you say that? In front of yourfollowing--your gang!"

  I should have been inclined to continue the argument myself--to try tofind out what she did know, and to uncover her game. It was obviousshe must have some reason for her extraordinary request, and her moreextraordinary way of making it. But Monty saw fit to stride past herthrough his open bedroom door, and shut it behind him firmly. We stoodlooking at her and at one another stupidly until she turned her backand went to her own room on the floor above. Then we followed Monty.

  "Did she say anything else?" he asked as soon as we were inside. Inoticed he was sweating pretty freely now.

  "Didums, you're too polite!" Fred answered. "You ought to have toldher to keep her tongue housed or be civil!"

  "I don't hold with hitting back at a lone woman," said Yerkes, "butwhat was she driving at? What did she mean by calling us a pack ofmongrels?"

  "Merely her way," said Monty offhandedly. "Those particular McCauleysnever amounted to much. She married a baronet, and he divorced her.Bad scandal. Saffren Waldon was at the War Office. She stole papers,or something of that sort--delivered them to a German paramour--vonDuvitz was his name, I think. She and her brother were lucky to keepout of jail. Ever since then she has been--some say a spy, some sayone thing, some another. My brother fell foul of her, and lived toregret it. She's on her last legs I don't doubt, or she wouldn't be inZanzibar."

  "Then why the obvious nervous sweat you're in?" demanded Fred.

  "And that doesn't account for the abuse she handed out to us," saidYerkes.

  "Why not tip off the authorities that she's a notorious spy?" I asked.

  "I suspect they know all about her," he answered.

  "But why your alarm?" insisted Fred.

  "I'm scarcely alarmed, old thing. But it's pretty obvious, isn't it,that she wants us to believe she knows what we're after. She'svindictive. She imagines she owes me a grudge on my brother's account.It might soothe her to think she had made me nervous. And by gad--itsounds like lunacy, and mind you I'm not propounding it forfact!--there's just one chance that she really does know where theivory is!"

  "But where's the sense of abusing us?" repeated Yerkes.

  "That's the poor thing's way of claiming class superiority," saidMonty. "She was born into one class, married into another, and divorcedinto a third. She'd likely to forget she said an unkind word the nexttime she meets you. Give her one chance and she'll pretend shebelieves you were born to the purple--flatter you until you halfbelieve it yourself. Later on, when it suits her at the moment, she'lldenounce you as a social impostor! It's just habit--bad habit, Iadmit--comes of the life she leads. Lots of 'em like her. Few of 'emquite so well informed, though, and dangerous if you give 'em a chance."

  "I still don't see why you're sweating," said Fred.

  "It's hot. There's a chance she knows where the ivory is! She hasmoney, but how? She'd have begged if she were short of cash! It's myimpression she has been in German government employ for a number ofyears. Possibly they have paid her to do some spy-work--in theZanzibar court, perhaps--the Sultan's a mere boy--"

  "Isn't he woolly-headed?" objected Yerkes.

  "Mainly Arab. It's a French game to send a white woman to intrigue atcolored courts, but the Germans are good imitators."

  "Isn't she English?" asked Yerkes.

  "Her trade's international," said Monty dryly. "My guess is thatCoutlass or Hassan told her what we're supposed to be doing here, andshe pretends to know where the ivory is in order to trap us all in someway. The net's spread for me, but there's no objection to catching youfellows as well."

  "She'll need to use sweeter bait than I've seen yet!" laughed Yerkes.

  "She'll probably be sweetness itself next time she sees you. She'llargue she's created an impression and can afford to be gracious."

  "Impression is good!" said Yerkes. "I mean it's bad! She has createdone, all right! What's the likelihood of her having double-crossed theGermans? Mightn't she have got a clue to where the stuff is, and beholding for a better market than they offer?"

  "I was coming to that," said Monty. "Yes, it's possible. But whateverher game is, don't let us play it for her. Let her do the leading. Ifshe gets hold of you fellows, one at a time or all together, for thelove of heaven tell her nothing! Let her tell all she likes, but admitnothing--tell nothing--ask no questions! That's an old rule indiplomacy (and remember, she's a diplomat, whatever else she may be!)Old-stagers can divine the Young ones' secrets from the nature of thequestions they ask! So if you got the chance, ask her nothing! Don'tlie, either! It would take a very old hand to lie to her in such waythat she couldn't see through it!"

  "Why not be simply rude and turn our backs?" said I.

  "Best of all--provided you can do it! Remember, she's an old hand!"

  "D'you mean," said Yerkes, "that if she were to offer proof that sheknows where that ivory is, and proposed terms, you wouldn't talk itover?"

  "I mean let her alone!" said Monty.

  But it turned out she would not be let alone. We dine in the publicroom, but she had her meals sent up to her and we flattered ourselves(or I did) that her net had been laid in vain. Folk dine late in thetropics, and we dallied over coffee and cigars, so that it was going onfor ten o'clock when Yerkes and I started upstairs again. Monty andFred went out to see the waterfront by moonlight.

  We had reached our door (he and I shared one great room) when we heardterrific screams from the floor above--a woman's--one after another,piercing, fearful, hair-raising, and so suggestive in that gloomy, grimbuilding that a man's very blood stood still.

  Yerkes was the first upstairs. He went like an arrow from a bow, and Iafter him. The screams had stopped before we reached the stairhead,but there was no doubting which her room was; the door was partlyopen, permitting a view of armchairs and feminine garments in somedisorder. We heard a man talking loud quick Arabic, and awoman--pleading, I thought. Yerkes rapped on the door.

  "Come in!" said a voice, and I followed Yerkes in.

  We were met by her Syrian maid, a creature with gazelle eyes and timidmanner, who came through the doorway leading to an inner room.

  "What's the trouble?" demanded Yerkes, and the woman signed to us to goon in. Yerkes led the way again impulsively as any knight-errantre
scuing beleaguered dames, but I looked back and saw that the Syrianwoman had locked the outer door. Before I could tell Will that, he wasin the next room, so I followed, and, like him, stood rather bewildered.

  Lady Saffren Waldon sat facing us, rather triumphant, in no apparenttrouble, not alone. There were four very well-dressed Arabs standingto one side. She sat in a basket chair by a door that pretty obviouslyled into her bedroom; and kept one foot on a pillow, although Isuspected there was not much the matter with it.

  "We heard screams. Thought you were being murdered!" said Yerkes, outof breath.

  "Oh, indeed, no! Nothing of the kind! I fell and twisted myankle--very painful, but not serious. Since you are here, sit down,won't you?"

  "No, thanks," said he, turning to go.

  "The maid locked the door on us!" said I, and before the words were outof my mouth three of the Arabs slipped into the outer room. There wasno hint or display of weapons of any kind, but they were big men, andthe folds of their garments were sufficiently voluminous to have hiddena dozen guns apiece.

  "She'll open it!" said Will, with inflection that a fool couldunderstand.

  "One minute, please!" said Lady Saffren Waldon. (It was no poorimitation of Queen Elizabeth ordering courtiers about.)

  "We didn't come to talk," said Will. "Heard screams. Made a mistake.Sorry. We're off!"

  "No mistake!" she said; and the sweetness Monty prophesied began toshow itself. The change in her voice was too swift and pronounced tobe convincing. "I did scream. I was, in pain. It was kind of you tocome. Since you are here I would like you to talk to this gentleman."

  She glanced at the Arab, an able-looking man, with nose and eyesexpressive of keen thought, and the groomed gray beard that makes anArab always dignified.

  "Some other time," said Will. "I've an engagement!" And he turned togo again.

  "No--now!" she said. "It's no use--you can't get out! You may as wellbe sensible and listen!"

  We glanced at each other and both remembered Monty's warning. Willlaughed.

  "Take seats," she said, with a very regal gesture. She was notcarelessly dressed, as she had been earlier in the day. From hair tosilken hose and white kid shoes she was immaculate, and she wore rougeand powder now. In that yellow lamplight (carefully placed, no doubt)she was certainly good-looking. In fact, she was good-looking at anytime, and only no longer able to face daylight with the tale of youth.Her eyes were weapons, nothing less. We remained standing.

  "This gentleman will speak to you," she said, motioning to the Arab tocommence, and he bowed--from the shoulders upward.

  "I am from His Highness the Sultan of Zanzibar" he announced, a littlepompously. "A minister from His Highness." (In announcing their ownimportance Arabs very seldom err in the direction of under-estimate.)"I speak about the ivory, which I am informed you propose to set out ona journey to discover."

  "Where did you get your information?" Yerkes countered.

  "Don't be absurd!" ordered Lady Safrren Waldon. "I gave it to him!Where else need he go to get it?"

  "Where did you get it, then?" he retorted.

  "Never mind! Listen to what Hamed Ibrahim has to say!"

  The Arab bowed his head slightly a second time.

  "The ivory you seek," he said, "is said to be Tippoo Tib's own, and hewill not tell the hiding-places. It does not belong to him. Suchlittle part of it as ever was his was long ago swallowed by theinterest on claims against him. The whole is now in truth the propertyof His Highness the Sultan of Zanzibar, and whoever discovers it shallreceive reward from the owner. His Highness is willing, through me hisminister, to make treaty in advance in writing with suitable partiesintending to make search."

  "You mean the Sultan wants to hire me to hunt for ivory for him?" Willasked, and the Arab made a gesture of impatience. At that Lady SaffrenWaldon cut in, very vinegary once more.

  "You two men are prisoners! Show much more sense! Come to terms ortake the consequences! Listen! Tippoo Tib buried the ivory. TheSultan of Zanzibar claims it. The German government, for reasons ofits own, backs the Sultan's claim; ivory found in German East Africawill be handed over to him in support of his claim to all the rest ofit. If you--Lord Montdidier and the rest of you--care to sign anagreement with the Sultan of Zanzibar you can have facilities. Youshall be supplied with guides who can lead you to the right place tostart your search from--"

  "Thought you wanted Lord Montdidier to say in London that you knowwhere it all is," Will objected.

  She colored slightly, and glared.

  "Perhaps I am one of the guides," she said darkly. "I know more than Ineed tell for the sake of this argument! The point is, you can havefacilities if you sign an agreement with the Sultan. Otherwise, youwill be dogged wherever you go! Whatever you should find would beclaimed! Every difficulty will be made for you--every treacheryconceivable practised on you. Lord Montdidier can get influentialbacking, but not influence among the natives! He can not get good menand true information by pulling wires in London. The Britishgovernment once offered ten per cent. of the value of the ivory found.The Sultan of Zanzibar offers twenty per cent.--"

  "Twenty-five per cent.," corrected Hamed Ibrahim.

  "Yes, but I should want five per cent. for my commission!"

  "This sounds like a different yarn to the one you told on the stairsthis afternoon," said Will. "See Monty and tell it to him."

  "It is for you to tell Lord Montdidier. He runs away from me!"

  "I refuse to tell him a word!" said Will, with a laugh like that of aboy about to plunge into a swimming pool--sort of "Here goes!"

  "You are extremely ill advised!"

  "Do your worst! Monty'll be hunting for us two in about a minute.We're prisoners, are we? Suit yourself!"

  "You are prisoners while I choose! You could be killed in this room,removed in sacks, thrown to the sharks in the roadstead, and nobody thewiser! But I have no intention of killing you. As it happens, thatwould not suit my purpose!"

  We both glanced behind us involuntarily. It may be that we both hearda footstep, but it is always difficult to say certainly after theevent. At any rate, while in the act of turning our heads, two of thethree Arabs, who had previously left the room, threw nooses over themand bound our arms to our sides with the jiffy-swiftness only sailorsknow. The third man put the finishing touches, and presently adjustedgags with a neatness and solicitude worthy of the Inquisition.

  "Throw them!" she ordered, and in a second our heels were struck fromunder us and I was half stunned by the impact of my head against thesolid floor (for all the floors of that great place were built toresist eternity).

  "Now!" she said. "Show them knives!"

  We were shown forthwith the ugliest, most suggestive weapons I haveever seen--long sliver-thin blades sharper than razors. The Arabsknelt on our chests (their knees were harder and more merciless thanwooden clubs) and laid the blades, edge-upward, on the skin of ourthroats.

  "Let them feel!" she ordered.

  I felt a sharp cut, and the warm blood trickled down over my jugular tothe floor. I knew it was only a skin-cut, but did not pretend tomyself I was enjoying the ordeal.

  "Now!" she said.

  The Arabs stepped away and she came and stood between us, looking downat one and then the other.

  "There isn't a place in Africa," she said, "that you can hide in wherethe Sultan's men can't find you! There isn't a British officer inAfrica who would believe you if you told what has happened in this roomtonight! Yet Lord Montdidier will believe you--he knows youpresumably, and certainly he knows me! So tell Lord Montdidier exactlywhat has happened! Assure him with my compliments that his throat andyours shall be cut as surely as you dare set out after that ivorywithout signing my agreement first. Tell Lord Montdidier he may befriends with me if he cares to. As his friend I will help make himrich for life! As his enemy, I will make Africa too hot and dangerousto hold him! Let him choose!"

  She step
ped back and, without troubling to turn away, put powder on hernose and chin.

  "Now let them up!" she said.

  The Arabs lifted us to our feet.

  "Loose them!"

  The expert of the three slipped the knots like a wizard doing parlortricks; but I noticed that the other two held their knives extremelycautiously. We should have been dead men if we had made a pugnaciousmotion.

  "Now you may go! Unless Lord Montdidier agrees with me, the onlysafety for any of you is away from Africa! Go and tell him! Go!"

  "I'll give you your answer now!" said Will.

  "No, you don't!" said I, remembering Monty's urgent admonition to tellher nothing and ask no questions. "Come away, Will! There's nothingto be gained by talking back!"

  "Right you are!" he said, laughing like a boy again--this time like aboy whose fight has been broken off without his seeking or consent.Like me, he pulled out a handkerchief and wiped blood from his neck.The sight of his own blood--even such a little trickle as that--haspeculiar effect an a man.

  "By Jiminy, she has scratched the wrong dog's ear!" he growled to me aswe went to the door together.

  "They're all in there!" I said excitedly, when the door slammed shutbehind us. "Hurry down and get me a gun! I'll hold the door while yourun for police and have 'em arrested!"

  "Piffle!" he said. "Come on! Three Sultan's witnesses and two lonewhite women against us two--come away! Come away!"

  Monty and Fred were still out, so we went to our own room.

  "I'm wondering," I said, "what Monty will say."

  "I'm not!" said Will. "I'm not troubling, either! I'm not going totell Monty a blessed word! See here--she thinks she knows where someo' that ivory is. Maybe the government of German East Africa is in onthe deal, and maybe not; that makes no present difference. She thinksshe's wise. And she has fixed up with the Sultan to have him claim itwhen found, so's she'll get a fat slice of the melon. There's a schemeon to get the stuff, when who should come on the scene but our littleparty, and that makes 'em all nervous, 'cause Monty's a bad man to beup against. Remember: she claimed that she knows Monty and he knowsher. She means by that that he knows she's a desperado, and she thinkshe'll draw the line at a trip that promises murder and blackmail andsuch like dirty work. So she puts a scare into us with a view to ourthrowing a scare into him. If I scare any one, it's going to be thatdame herself. I'll not tell Monty a thing!"

  "How about Coutlass the Greek?" said I. "D'you suppose he's heraccomplice?"

  "Maybe! One of her dupes perhaps! I suspect she'll suck him dry ofinformation and cast him off like a lemon rind. I dare bet she's usinghim. She can't use me! Shall you tell Monty?"

  "No," I said. "Not unless we both agreed."

  He nodded. "You and I weren't born to what they call the purple.We're no diplomatists; but we get each other's meaning."

  "Here come Monty and Fred," said I. "Is my neck still bloody? No,yours doesn't show."

  We met them at the stairhead, and Monty did not seem to notice anything.

  "Fred has composed a song to the moonlight on Zanzibar roadstead whileyou fellows were merely after-dinner mundane. D'you suppose thelandlord 'ud make trouble if we let him sing it?"

  "Let's hope so!" said Will. "I'm itching for a row like they saydrovers in Monty's country itch for mile-stones! Let Fred warble.I'll fight whoever comes!"

  Monty eyed him and me swiftly, but made no comment.

  "Bill's homesick!" said Fred. "The U. S. eagle wants its Bowery!We'll soothe the fowl with thoughts of other things--where's theconcertina?"

  "No, no, Fred, that'll be too much din!"

  Monty made a grab for the instrument, but Fred raised it above his headand brought it down between his knees with chords that crashed likewedding bells. Then he changed to softer, languorous music, and whenhe had picked out an air to suit his mood, sat down and turned artloose to do her worst.

  He has a good voice. If he would only not pull such faces, or make sosure that folk within a dozen blocks can hear him, he might pass for aprofessional.

  "Music suggestive of moonlight!" he said, and began:

  "The sentry palms stand motionless. Masts move against the sky. With measured creak of curving spars dhows gently to the jeweled stars Rock out a lullaby.

  "Silver and black sleeps Zanzibar. The moonlit ripples croon Soft songs of loves that perfect are, long tales of red-lipped spoils of war, And you--you smile, you moon! For I think that beam on the placid sea That splashes, and spreads, and dips, and gleams, That dances and glides till it comes to me Out of infinite sky, is the path of dreams, And down that lane the memories run Of all that's wild beneath the sun!"

  "You fellows like that one? Anybody coming? Nobody for Will to fightyet? Too bad! Well--we'll try a-gain! There's no chorus. It's allpoetic stuff, too gentle to be yowled by three such cannibals as you!Listen!

  "Old as the moonlit silences, to-night's loves are the same As when for ivory from far, and cloves and gems of Zanzibar King Solomon's men came.

  "Sinful and still the same roofs lie that knew da Gama's heel, Those beams that light these sleepy waves looked on when men threw murdered slaves To make the sharks a meal. And I think that beam on the silvered swell That spreads, and splashes, and gleams, and dips, That has shone on the cruel and brave as well, On the trail o' the slaves and the ivory ships, Is the lane down which the memories run Of all that's wild beneath the sun."

  The concertina wailed into a sort of minor dirge and ceased. Fredfastened the catch, and put the instrument away.

  "Why don't you applaud?" he asked.

  "Oh, bravo, bravo!" said Will and I together.

  Monty looked hard at both of us.

  "Strange!" he remarked. "You're both distracted, and you've each got aslight cut over the jugular!"

  "Been trying out razors," said Yerkes.

  "Um-m-m!" remarked Monty. "Well--I'm glad it's no worse. How aboutbed, eh? Better lock your door--that lady up-stairs is what theGermans call gefaehrlich!* Goo'night!"

  -----------* Gefaehrlich, dangerous.-----------