by Sax Rohmer
V
BREATH OF ALLAH
I
For close upon a week I had been haunting the purlieus of the Muski,attired as a respectable dragoman, my face and hands reduced to adeeper shade of brown by means of a water-color paint (I had to usesomething that could be washed off and grease-paint is useless forpurposes of actual disguise) and a neat black moustache fixed to mylip with spirit-gum. In his story _Beyond the Pale_, Rudyard Kiplinghas trounced the man who inquires too deeply into native life; but ifeverybody thought with Kipling we should never have had a Lane or aBurton and I should have continued in unbroken scepticism regardingthe reality of magic. Whereas, because of the matters which I am aboutto set forth, for ten minutes of my life I found myself a tremblingslave of the unknown.
Let me explain at once that my undignified masquerade was not promptedby mere curiosity or the quest of the pomegranate, it was undertakenas the natural sequel to a letter received from Messrs. Moses, Murphyand Co., the firm which I represented in Egypt, containing curiousmatters affording much food for reflection. "We would ask you," ranthe communication, "to renew your inquiries into the particularcomposition of the perfume 'Breath of Allah,' of which you obtainedus a sample at a cost which we regarded as excessive. It appears toconsist in the blending of certain obscure essential oils andgum-resins; and the nature of some of these has defied analysis todate. Over a hundred experiments have been made to discoversubstitutes for the missing essences, but without success; and aswe are now in a position to arrange for the manufacture of Orientalperfume on an extensive scale we should be prepared to make it _wellworth your while_ (the last four words characteristically underlinedin red ink) if you could obtain for us a correct copy of the originalprescription."
The letter went on to say that it was proposed to establish a separatecompany for the exploitation of the new perfume, with a registeredaddress in Cairo and a "manufactory" in some suitably inaccessiblespot in the Near East.
I pondered deeply over these matters. The scheme was a good one andcould not fail to reap considerable profits; for, given extensiveadvertising, there is always a large and monied public for a newsmell. The particular blend of liquid fragrance to which the letterreferred was assured of a good sale at a high price, not alone inEgypt, but throughout the capitals of the world, provided it couldbe put upon the market; but the proposition of manufacture was besetwith extraordinary difficulties.
The tiny vial which I had despatched to Birmingham nearly twelvemonths before had cost me close upon L100 to procure, for the reasonthat "Breath of Allah" was the secret property of an old andaristocratic Egyptian family whose great wealth and exclusivenessrendered them unapproachable. By dint of diligent inquiry I haddiscovered the _attar_ to whom was entrusted certain final processesin the preparation of the perfume--only to learn that he was ignorantof its exact composition. But although he had assured me (and I didnot doubt his word) that not one grain had hitherto passed out ofthe possession of the family, I had succeeded in procuring a smallquantity of the precious fluid.
Messrs. Moses, Murphy and Co. had made all the necessary arrangementsfor placing it upon the market, only to learn, as this eventful letteradvised me, that the most skilled chemists whose services wereobtainable had failed to analyse it.
One morning, then, in my assumed character, I was proceeding alongthe Sharia el-Hamzawi seeking for some scheme whereby I might winthe confidence of Mohammed er-Rahman the _attar_, or perfumer. I hadquitted the house in the Darb el-Ahmar which was my base of operationsbut a few minutes earlier, and as I approached the corner of thestreet a voice called from a window directly above my head: "Said!Said!"
Without supposing that the call referred to myself, I glanced up,and met the gaze of an old Egyptian of respectable appearance whowas regarding me from above. Shading his eyes with a gnarled hand--
"Surely," he cried, "it is none other than Said the nephew of YussufKhalig! _Es-selam 'aleykum, Said!_"
"_Aleykum, es-selam_," I replied, and stood there looking up at him.
"Would you perform a little service for me, Said?" he continued."It will occupy you but an hour and you may earn five piastres."
"Willingly," I replied, not knowing to what the mistake of thisevidently half-blind old man might lead me.
I entered the door and mounted the stairs to the room in which hewas, to find that he lay upon a scantily covered _diwan_ by the openwindow.
"Praise be to Allah (whose name be exalted)!" he exclaimed, "that I amthus fortunately enabled to fulfil my obligations. I sometimes sufferfrom an old serpent bite, my son, and this morning it has obliged meto abstain from all movement. I am called Abdul the Porter, of whom youwill have heard your uncle speak; and although I have long retired fromactive labor myself, I contract for the supply of porters and carriersof all descriptions and for all purposes; conveying fair ladies to the_hammam_, youth to the bridal, and death to the grave. Now, it waswritten that you should arrive at this timely hour."
I considered it highly probable that it was also written how I shouldshortly depart if this garrulous old man continued to inflict upon medetails of his absurd career. However--
"I have a contract with the merchant, Mohammed er-Rahman of the Sukel-Attarin," he continued, "which it has always been my custompersonally to carry out."
The words almost caused me to catch my breath; and my opinion of Abdulthe Porter changed extraordinary. Truly my lucky star had guided myfootsteps that morning!
"Do not misunderstand me," he added. "I refer not to the transport ofhis wares to Suez, to Zagazig, to Mecca, to Aleppo, to Baghdad,Damascus, Kandahar, and Pekin; although the whole of these vastenterprises is entrusted to none other than the only son of my father:I speak, now, of the bearing of a small though heavy box from thegreat magazine and manufactory of Mohammed er-Rahman at Shubra, to hisshop in the Suk el-Attarin, a matter which I have arranged for him onthe eve of the Molid en-Nebi (birthday of the Prophet) for the pastfive-and-thirty years. Every one of my porters to whom I might entrustthis special charge is otherwise employed; hence my observation thatit was written how none other than yourself should pass beneath thiswindow at a certain fortunate hour."
Fortunate indeed had that hour been for me, and my pulse beat far fromnormally as I put the question: "Why, O Father Abdul, do you attach somuch importance to this seemingly trivial matter?"
The face of Abdul the Porter, which resembled that of an intelligentmule, assumed an expression of low cunning.
"The question is well conceived," he said, raising a long forefingerand wagging it at me. "And who in all Cairo knows so much of thesecrets of the great as Abdul the Know-all, Abdul the Taciturn! Askme of the fabled wealth of Karafa Bey and I will name you every oneof his possessions and entertain you with a calculation of his income,which I have worked out in _nuss-faddah_![B] Ask me of the amber moleupon the shoulder of the Princess Aziza and I will describe it to youin such a manner as to ravish your soul! Whisper, my son"--he benttowards me confidentially--"once a year the merchant Mohammeder-Rahman prepares for the Lady Zuleyka a quantity of the perfumewhich impious tradition has called 'Breath of Allah.' The father ofMohammed er-Rahman prepared it for the mother of the Lady Zuleyka andhis father before him for the lady of that day who held thesecret--the secret which has belonged to the women of this familysince the reign of the Khalif el-Hakim from whose favorite wife theyare descended. To her, the wife of the Khalif, the first _dirhem_(drachm) ever distilled of the perfume was presented in a gold vase,together with the manner of its preparation, by the great wizard andphysician Ibn Sina of Bokhara" (Avicenna).
[B] A _nuss-faddah_ equals a quarter of a farthing.
"You are well called Abdul the Know-all!" I cried in admiration. "Thenthe secret is held by Mohammed er-Rahman?"
"Not so, my son," replied Abdul. "Certain of the essences employed arebrought, in sealed vessels, from the house of the Lady Zuleyka, as isalso the brass coffer containing the writing of Ibn Sina; andthroughout the measuring of the quantiti
es, the secret writing neverleaves her hand."
"What, the Lady Zuelyka attends in person?"
Abdul the Porter inclined his head serenely.
"On the eve of the birthday of the Prophet, the Lady Zuelyka visitsthe shop of Mohammed er-Rahman, accompanied by an _imam_ from one ofthe great mosques."
"Why by an _imam_, Father Abdul?"
"There is a magical ritual which must be observed in the distillationof the perfume, and each essence is blessed in the name of one of thefour archangels; and the whole operation must commence at the hour ofmidnight on the eve of the Molid en-Nebi."
He peered at me triumphantly.
"Surely," I protested, "an experienced _attar_ such as Mohammeder-Rahman would readily recognize these secret ingredients by theirsmell?"
"A great pan of burning charcoal," whispered Abdul dramatically, "isplaced upon the floor of the room, and throughout the operation theattendant _imam_ casts pungent spices upon it, whereby the nature ofthe secret essences is rendered unrecognizable. It is time you depart,my son, to the shop of Mohammed, and I will give you a writing makingyou known to him. Your task will be to carry the materials necessaryfor the secret operation (which takes place to-night) from themagazine of Mohammed er-Rahman at Shubra, to his shop in the Sukel-Attarin. My eyesight is far from good, Said. Do you write as Idirect and I will place my name to the letter."
II
The words "well worth your while" had kept time to my steps, or Idoubt if I should have survived the odious journey from Shubra. Nevercan I forget the shape, color, and especially the weight, of thelocked chest which was my burden. Old Mohammed er-Rahman had acceptedmy service on the strength of the letter signed by Abdul, and ofcourse, had failed to recognize in "Said" that Hon. Neville Kernabywho had certain confidential dealings with him a year before. Butexactly how I was to profit by the fortunate accident which had ledAbdul to mistake me for someone called "Said" became more and moreobscure as the box grew more and more heavy. So that by the time thatI actually arrived with my burden at the entrance to the Street of thePerfumers, my heart had hardened towards Abdul the Know-all; and,setting my box upon the ground, I seated myself upon it to rest andto imprecate at leisure that silent cause of my present exhaustion.
After a time my troubled spirit grew calmer, as I sat there inhalingthe insidious breath of Tonquin musk, the fragrance of attar of roses,the sweetness of Indian spikenard and the stinging pungency of myrrh,opoponax, and ihlang-ylang. Faintly I could detect the perfume whichI have always counted the most exquisite of all save one--thatdelightful preparation of Jasmine peculiarly Egyptian. But the mysticbreath of frankincense and erotic fumes of ambergris alike left meunmoved; for amid these odors, through which it has always seemed tome that that of cedar runs thematically, I sought in vain for any hintof "Breath of Allah."
Fashionable Europe and America were well represented as usual in theSuk el-Attarin, but the little shop of Mohammed er-Rahman was quitedeserted, although he dealt in the most rare essences of all.Mohammed, however, did not seek Western patronage, nor was there inthe heart of the little white-bearded merchant any envy of hisseemingly more prosperous neighbors in whose shops New York, London,and Paris smoked amber-scented cigarettes, and whose wares werecarried to the uttermost corners of the earth. There is nothing moreillusory than the outward seeming of the Eastern merchant. Thewealthiest man with whom I was acquainted in the Muski had the aspectof a mendicant; and whilst Mohammed's neighbors sold phials of essenceand tiny boxes of pastilles to the patrons of Messrs. Cook, were notthe silent caravans following the ancient desert routes laden withgreat crates of sweet merchandise from the manufactory at Shubra? Tothe city of Mecca alone Mohammed sent annually perfumes to the valueof two thousand pounds sterling; he manufactured three kinds ofincense exclusively for the royal house of Persia; and his wares wereknown from Alexandria to Kashmir, and prized alike in Stambul andTartary. Well might he watch with tolerant smile the more showyactivities of his less fortunate competitors.
The shop of Mohammed er-Rahman was at the end of the street remotefrom the Hamzawi (Cloth Bazaar), and as I stood up to resume my laborsmy mood of gloomy abstraction was changed as much by a certainatmosphere of expectancy--I cannot otherwise describe it--as by thefamiliar smells of the place. I had taken no more than three pacesonward into the Suk ere it seemed to me that all business had suddenlybecome suspended; only the Western element of the throng remainedoutside whatever influence had claimed the Orientals. Then presentlythe visitors, also becoming aware of this expectant hush as I hadbecome aware of it, turned almost with one accord, and following thedirection of the merchants' glances, gazed up the narrow streettowards the Mosque of el-Ashraf.
And here I must chronicle a curious circumstance. Of the Imam AbuTabah I had seen nothing for several weeks, but at this moment Isuddenly found myself thinking of that remarkable man. Whilst anymention of his name, or nickname--for I could not believe "Tabah" tobe patronymic--amongst the natives led only to pious ejaculationsindicative of respectful fear, by the official world he was tacitlydisowned. Yet I had indisputable evidence to show that few doors inCairo, or indeed in all Egypt, were closed to him; he came and wentlike a phantom. I should never have been surprised, on entering myprivate apartments at Shepheard's, to have found him seated therein,nor did I question the veracity of a native acquaintance who assuredme that he had met the mysterious _imam_ in Aleppo on the same morningthat a letter from his partner in Cairo had arrived mentioning a visitby Abu Tabah to el-Azhar. But throughout the native city he was knownas the Magician and was very generally regarded as a master of the_ginn_. Once more depositing my burden upon the ground, then, I gazedwith the rest in the direction of the mosque.
It was curious, that moment of perfumed silence, and my imagination,doubtless inspired by the memory of Abu Tabah, was carried back to thedays of the great _khalifs_, which never seem far removed from one inthose mediaeval streets. I was transported to the Cairo of Harun alRaschid, and I thought that the Grand Wazir on some mission fromBaghdad was visiting the Suk el-Attarin.
Then, stately through the silent group, came a black-robed,white-turbaned figure outwardly similar to many others in the bazaar,but followed by two tall muffled negroes. So still was the place thatI could hear the tap of his ebony stick as he strode along the centreof the street.
At the shop of Mohammed er-Rahman he paused, exchanging a few wordswith the merchant, then resumed his way, coming down the Suk towardsme. His glance met mine, as I stood there beside the box; and, to myamazement, he saluted me with smiling dignity and passed on. Had he,too, mistaken me for Said--or had his all-seeing gaze detected beneathmy disguise the features of Neville Kernaby?
As he turned out of the narrow street into the Hamzawi, the commercialuproar was resumed instantly, so that save for this horrible doubtwhich had set my heart beating with uncomfortable rapidity, by all theevidences now about me his coming might have been a dream.
III
Filled with misgivings, I carried the box along to the shop; butMohammed er-Rahman's greeting held no hint of suspicion.
"By fleetness of foot thou shalt never win Paradise," he said.
"Nor by unseemly haste shall I thrust others from the path,"I retorted.
"It is idle to bandy words with any acquaintance of Abdul thePorter's," sighed Mohammed; "well do I know it. Take up the boxand follow me."
With a key which he carried attached to a chain about his waist,he unlocked the ancient door which alone divided his shop from theoutjutting wall marking a bend in the street. A native shop is usuallynothing more than a double cell; but descending three stone steps,I found myself in one of those cellar-like apartments which are notuncommon in this part of Cairo. Windows there were none, if I excepta small square opening, high up in one of the walls, which evidentlycommunicated with the narrow courtyard separating Mohammed'sestablishment from that of his neighbor, but which admitted scantylight and less ventilation. Through this opening I could see whatlooked like the uplifted sha
fts of a cart. From one of the roughbeams of the rather lofty ceiling a brass lamp hung by chains, anda quantity of primitive chemical paraphernalia littered the place;old-fashioned alembics, mysterious looking jars, and a sort ofportable furnace, together with several tripods and a number of large,flat brass pans gave the place the appearance of some old alchemist'sden. A rather handsome ebony table, intricately carved and inlaid withmother-o'-pearl and ivory, stood before a cushioned _diwan_ whichoccupied that side of the room in which was the square window.
"Set the box upon the floor," directed Mohammed, "but not with suchundue dispatch as to cause thyself to sustain an injury."
That he had been eagerly awaiting the arrival of the box and was nowburningly anxious to witness my departure, grew more and more apparentwith every word. Therefore--
"There are asses who are fleet of foot," I said, leisurely depositingmy load at his feet; "but the wise man regulateth his pace inaccordance with three things: the heat of the sun; the welfare ofothers; and the nature of his burden."
"That thou hast frequently paused on the way from Shubra to reflectupon these three things," replied Mohammed, "I cannot doubt; depart,therefore, and ponder them at leisure, for I perceive that thou arta great philosopher."
"Philosophy," I continued, seating myself upon the box, "sustaineththe mind, but the activity of the mind being dependent upon thewelfare of the stomach, even the philosopher cannot afford to laborwithout hire."
At that, Mohammed er-Rahman unloosed upon me a long pent-up torrent ofinvective--and furnished me with the information which I was seeking.
"O son of a wall-eyed mule!" he cried, shaking his fists over me, "nolonger will I suffer thy idiotic chatter! Return to Abdul the Porter,who employed thee, for not one _faddah_ will I give thee, calamitousmongrel that thou art! Depart! for I was but this moment informed thata lady of high station is about to visit me. Depart! lest she mistakemy shop for a pigsty."
But even as he spoke the words, I became aware of a vague disturbancein the street, and--
"Ah!" cried Mohammed, running to the foot of the steps and gazingupwards, "now am I utterly undone! Shame of thy parents that thouart, it is now unavoidable that the Lady Zuleyka shall find theein my shop. Listen, offensive insect--thou art Said, my assistant.Utter not one word; or with this"--to my great alarm he produceda dangerous-looking pistol from beneath his robe--"will I blow ahole through thy vacuous skull!"
Hastily concealing the pistol, he went hurrying up the steps, in timeto perform a low salutation before a veiled woman who was accompaniedby a Sudanese servant-girl and a negro. Exchanging some words with herwhich I was unable to detect, Mohammed er-Rahman led the way down intothe apartment wherein I stood, followed by the lady, who in turn wasfollowed by her servant. The negro remained above. Perceiving me asshe entered, the lady, who was attired with extraordinary elegance,paused, glancing at Mohammed.
"My lady," he began immediately, bowing before her, "it is Said myassistant, the slothfulness of whose habits is only exceeded by theimpudence of his conversation."
She hesitated, bestowing upon me a glance of her beautiful eyes.Despite the gloom of the place and the _yashmak_ which she wore, itwas manifest that she was good to look upon. A faint but exquisiteperfume stole to my nostrils, whereby I knew that Mohammed's charmingvisitor was none other than, the Lady Zuleyka.
"Yet," she said softly, "he hath the look of an active young man."
"His activity," replied the scent merchant, "resideth entirely inhis tongue."
The Lady Zuleyka seated herself upon the _diwan_, looking all aboutthe apartment.
"Everything is in readiness, Mohammed?" she asked.
"Everything, my lady."
Again the beautiful eyes were turned in my direction, and, as theirinscrutable gaze rested upon me, a scheme--which, since it was nevercarried out, need not be described--presented itself to my mind.Following a brief but eloquent silence--for my answering glances wereladen with significance:--
"O Mohammed," said the Lady Zuleyka indolently, "in what manner dotha merchant, such as thyself, chastise his servants when their conductdispleaseth him?"
Mohammed er-Rahman seemed somewhat at a loss for a reply, and stoodthere staring foolishly.
"I have whips for mine," murmured the soft voice. "It is an old customof my family."
Slowly she cast her eyes in my direction once more.
"It seemed to me, O Said," she continued, gracefully resting onejeweled hand upon the ebony table, "that thou hadst presumed to castlove-glances upon me. There is one waiting above whose duty it is toprotect me from such insults. Miska!"--to the servant girl--"summonEl-Kimri (The Dove)."
Whilst I stood there dumbfounded and abashed the girl called up thesteps:
"El-Kimri! Come hither!"
Instantly there burst into the room the form of that hideous negrowhom I had glimpsed above; and--
"O Kimri," directed the Lady Zuleyka, and languidly extended her handin my direction, "throw this presumptuous clown into the street!"
My discomfiture had proceeded far enough, and I recognized that, atwhatever risk of discovery, I must act instantly. Therefore, at themoment that El-Kimri reached the foot of the steps, I dashed my leftfist into his grinning face, putting all my weight behind the blow,which I followed up with a short right, utterly outraging thepugilistic proprieties, since it was well below the belt. El-Kimri bitthe dust to the accompaniment of a human discord composed of threenotes--and I leaped up the steps, turned to the left, and ran offaround the Mosque of el-Ashraf, where I speedily lost myself in thecrowded Ghuriya.
Beneath their factitious duskiness my cheeks were burning hotly: I wasashamed of my execrable artistry. For a druggist's assistant does notlightly make love to a duchess!
IV
I spent the remainder of the forenoon at my house in the Darb el-Ahmarheaping curses upon my own fatuity and upon the venerable head ofAbdul the Know-all. At one moment it seemed to me that I had wantonlydestroyed a golden opportunity, at the next that the seemingopportunity had been a mere mirage. With the passing of noon and theapproach of evening I sought desperately for a plan, knowing that ifI failed to conceive one by midnight, another chance of seeing thefamous prescription would probably not present itself for twelvemonths.
At about four o'clock in the afternoon came the dawn of a hazy idea,and since it necessitated a visit to my rooms at Shepheard's, I washedthe paint off my face and hands, changed, hurried to the hotel, ate ahasty meal, and returned to the Darb el-Ahmar, where I resumed mydisguise.
There are some who have criticized me harshly in regard to mycommercial activities at this time, and none of my affairs hasprovoked greater acerbitude than that of the perfume called "Breathof Allah." Yet I am at a loss to perceive wherein my perfidy lay; formy outlook is sufficiently socialistic to cause me to regard withdispleasure the conserving by an individual of something which,without loss to himself, might reasonably be shared by the community.For this reason I have always resented the way in which the Moslemveils the faces of the pearls of his _harem_. And whilst the successof my present enterprise would not render the Lady Zuleyka the poorer,it would enrich and beautify the world by delighting the senses of menwith a perfume more exquisite than any hitherto known.
Such were my reflections as I made my way through the dark anddeserted bazaar quarter, following the Sharia el-Akkadi to the Mosqueof el-Ashraf. There I turned to the left in the direction of theHamzawi, until, coming to the narrow alley opening from it into theSuk el-Attarin, I plunged into its darkness, which was like that ofa tunnel, although the upper parts of the houses above were silveredby the moon.
I was making for that cramped little courtyard adjoining the shop ofMohammed er-Rahman in which I had observed the presence of one ofthose narrow high-wheeled carts peculiar to the district, and as theentrance thereto from the Suk was closed by a rough wooden fence Ianticipated little difficult in gaining access. Yet there was onedifficulty which I had not foreseen, and which I had not met
with hadI arrived, as I might easily have arranged to do, a little earlier.Coming to the corner of the Street of the Perfumers, I cautiouslyprotruded my head in order to survey the prospect.
Abu Tabah was standing immediately outside the shop of Mohammeder-Rahman!
My heart gave a great leap as I drew back into the shadow, for Icounted his presence of evil omen to the success of my enterprise.Then, a swift revelation, the truth burst in upon my mind. He wasthere in the capacity of _imam_ and attendant magician at the mystical"Blessing of the perfumes"! With cautious tread I retraced my steps,circled round the Mosque and made for the narrow street which runsparallel with that of the Perfumers and into which I knew thecourtyard beside Mohammed's shop must open. What I did not know washow I was going to enter it from that end.
I experienced unexpected difficulty in locating the place, for theheight of the buildings about me rendered it impossible to pick upany familiar landmark. Finally, having twice retraced my steps, Idetermined that a door of old but strong workmanship set in a high,thick wall must communicate with the courtyard; for I could see noother opening to the right, or left through which it would have beenpossible for a vehicle to pass.
Mechanically I tried the door, but, as I had anticipated, found it tobe securely locked. A profound silence reigned all about me and therewas no window in sight from which my operations could be observed.Therefore, having planned out my route, I determined to scale thewall. My first foothold was offered by the heavy wooden lock whichprojected fully six inches from the door. Above it was a crossbeam andthen a gap of several inches between the top of the gate and the archinto which it was built. Above the arch projected an iron rod fromwhich depended a hook; and if I could reach the bar it would bepossible to get astride the wall.
I reached the bar successfully, and although it proved to be none toofirmly fastened, I took the chance and without making very much noisefound myself perched aloft and looking down into the little court. Asigh of relief escaped me; for the narrow cart with itsdisproportionate wheels stood there as I had seen it in the morning,its shafts pointing gauntly upward to where the moon of the Prophet'snativity swam in a cloudless sky. A dim light shone out from thesquare window of Mohammed er-Rahman's cellar.
Having studied the situation very carefully, I presently perceived tomy great satisfaction that whilst the tail of the cart was wedgedunder a crossbar, which retained it in its position, one of theshafts was in reach of my hand. Thereupon I entrusted my weight to theshaft, swinging out over the well of the courtyard. So successful wasI that only a faint creaking sound resulted; and I descended into thevehicle almost silently.
Having assured myself that my presence was undiscovered by Abu Tabah,I stood up cautiously, my hands resting upon the wall, and peeredthrough the little window into the room. Its appearance had changedsomewhat. The lamp was lighted and shed a weird and subduedillumination upon a rough table placed almost beneath it. Upon thistable were scales, measures, curiously shaped flasks, and odd-lookingchemical apparatus which might have been made in the days of Avicennahimself. At one end of the table stood an alembic over a little pan inwhich burnt a spirituous flame. Mohammed er-Rahman was placingcushions upon the _diwan_ immediately beneath me, but there was no oneelse in the room. Glancing upward, I noted that the height of theneighboring building prevented the moonlight from penetrating into thecourtyard, so that my presence could not be detected by means of anylight from without; and, since the whole of the upper part of the roomwas shadowed, I saw little cause for apprehension within.
At this moment came the sound of a car approaching along the Shariaesh-Sharawani. I heard it stop, near the Mosque of el-Ashraf, and inthe almost perfect stillness of those tortuous streets from which byday arises a very babel of tongues I heard approaching footsteps. Icrouched down in the cart, as the footsteps came nearer, passed theend of the courtyard abutting on the Street of the Perfumers, andpaused before the shop of Mohammed er-Rahman. The musical voice ofAbu Tabah spoke and that of the Lady Zuleyka answered. Came a loudrapping, and the creak of an opening door: then--
"Descend the steps, place the coffer on the table, and then remainimmediately outside the door," continued the imperious voice of thelady. "Make sure that there are no eavesdroppers."
Faintly through the little window there reached my ears a sound as ofsome heavy object being placed upon a wooden surface, then a muffleddisturbance as of several persons entering the room; finally, themuffled bang of a door closed and barred ... and soft footsteps inthe adjoining street!
Crouching down in the cart and almost holding my breath, I watchedthrough a hole in the side of the ramshackle vehicle that fence towhich I have already referred as closing the end of the courtyardwhich adjoined the Suk el-Attarin. A spear of moonlight, penetratingthrough some gap in the surrounding buildings, silvered its extremeedge. To an accompaniment of much kicking and heavy breathing, intothis natural limelight arose the black countenance of "The Dove."To my unbounded joy I perceived that his nose was lavishly decoratedwith sticking-plaster and that his right eye was temporarily off duty.Eight fat fingers clutching at the top of the woodwork, the bloatednegro regarded the apparently empty yard for a space of some threeseconds, ere lowering his ungainly bulk to the level of the streetagain. Followed a faint "pop" and a gurgling quite unmistakable. Iheard him walking back to the door, as I cautiously stood up andagain surveyed the interior of the room.
V
Egypt, as the earliest historical records show, has always been a landof magic, and according to native belief it is to-day the theater ofmany super-natural dramas. For my own part, prior to the episode whichI am about to relate, my personal experiences of the kind had beenlimited and unconvincing. That Abu Tabah possessed a sort of uncannypower akin to second sight I knew, but I regarded it merely as a formof telepathy. His presence at the preparation of the secret perfumedid not surprise me, for a belief in the efficacy of magicaloperations prevailed, as I was aware, even among the more culturedMoslems. My scepticism, however, was about to be rudely shaken.
As I raised my head above the ledge of the window and looked into theroom, I perceived the Lady Zuleyka seated on the cushioned _diwan_,her hands resting upon an open roll of parchment which lay upon thetable beside a massive brass chest of antique native workmanship. Thelid of the chest was raised, and the interior seemed to be empty, butnear it upon the table I observed a number of gold-stoppered vesselsof Venetian glass and each of which was of a different color.
Beside a brazier wherein glowed a charcoal fire, Abu Tabah stood;and into the fire he cast alternately strips of paper bearing writingof some sort and little dark brown pastilles which he took froma sandalwood box set upon a sort of tripod beside him. They werecomposed of some kind of aromatic gum in which benzoin seemed topredominate, and the fumes from the brazier filled the room witha blue mist.
The _imam_, in his soft, musical voice, was reciting that chapter ofthe Koran called "The Angel." The weird ceremony had begun. In orderto achieve my purpose I perceived that I should have to draw myselfright up to the narrow embrasure and rest my weight entirely upon theledge of the window. There was little danger in the maneuver, providedI made no noise; for the hanging lamp, by reason of its form, cast nolight into the upper part of the room. As I achieved the desiredposition I became painfully aware of the pungency of the perfume withwhich the apartment was filled.
Lying there upon the ledge in a most painful attitude, I wriggledforward inch by inch further into the room, until I was in a positionto use my right arm more or less freely. The preliminary prayerconcluded, the measuring of the perfumes had now actually commenced,and I readily perceived that without recourse to the parchment, fromwhich the Lady Zuleyka never once removed her hands, it would indeedbe impossible to discover the secret. For, consulting the ancientprescription, she would select one of the gold-stoppered bottles,unscrew it, direct that so many grains should be taken from it, andnever removing her gaze from Mohammed er-Rahman whilst he measuredout the correct quantity,
would restopper the vessel and so proceed.As each was placed in a wide-mouthed glass jar by the perfumer, AbuTabah, extending his hands over the jar, pronounced the names:
"Gabrail Mikail, Israfil, Israil."
Cautiously I raised to my eyes the small but powerful opera-glassesto procure which I had gone to my rooms at Shepheard's. Focussing themupon the ancient scroll lying on the table beneath me, I discovered,to my joy, that I could read the lettering quite well. Whilst AbuTabah began to recite some kind of incantation in the course of whichthe names of the Companions of the Prophet frequently occurred, Icommenced to read the writing of Avicenna.
"In the name of God, the Compassionate, the Merciful, the High, theGreat...."
So far had I proceeded and no further when I became aware of a curiouschange in the form of the Arabic letters. They seemed to be moving, tobe cunningly changing places one with another as if to trick me out ofgrasping their meaning!
The illusion persisting, I determined that it was due to the unnaturalstrain imposed upon my vision, and although I recognized that timewas precious I found myself compelled temporarily to desist, sincenothing was to be gained by watching these letters which danced fromside to side of the parchment, sometimes in groups and sometimessingly, so that I found myself pursuing one slim Arab A (_'Alif_)entirely up the page from the bottom to the top where it finallydisappeared under the thumb of the Lady Zuleyka!
Lowering the glasses I stared down in stupefaction at Abu Tabah. Hehad just cast fresh incense upon the flames, and it came home to me,with a childish and unreasoning sense of terror, that the Egyptianswho called this man the Magician were wiser than I. For whilst I couldno longer hear his voice, I now could _see_ the words issuing from hismouth! They formed slowly and gracefully in the blue clouds of vapoursome four feet above his head, revealed their meaning to me in lettersof gold, and then faded away towards the ceiling!
Old-established beliefs began to totter about me as I became aware ofa number of small murmuring voices within the room. They were thevoices of the perfumes burning in the brazier. Said one, in a gutturaltone:
"I am Myrrh. My voice is the voice of the Tomb."
And another softly: "I am Ambergris. I lure the hearts of men."
And a third huskily: "I am Patchouli. My promises are lies."
My sense of smell seemed to have deserted me and to have beenreplaced by a sense of hearing. And now this room of magic began toexpand before my eyes. The walls receded and receded, until theapartment grew larger than the interior of the Citadel Mosque; theroof shot up so high that I knew there was no cathedral in the worldhalf so lofty. Abu Tabah, his hands extended above the brazier, shrankto minute dimensions, and the Lady Zuleyka, seated beneath me, becamealmost invisible.
The project which had led me to thrust myself into the midst of thisfeast of sorcery vanished from my mind. I desired but one thing: todepart, ere reason utterly deserted me. But, to my horror, Idiscovered that my muscles were become rigid bands of iron! The figureof Abu Tabah was drawing nearer; his slowly moving arms had grownserpentine and his eyes had changed to pools of flame which seemed tosummon me. At the time when this new phenomenon added itself to theother horrors, I seemed to be impelled by an irresistible force tojerk my head downwards: I heard my neck muscles snap metallically: I_saw_ a scream of agony spurt forth from my lips ... and I saw upon alittle ledge immediately below the square window a little _mibkharah_,or incense burner, which hitherto I had not observed. A thick, oilybrown stream of vapor was issuing from its perforated lid and bathingmy face clammily. Sense of smell I had none; but a chuckling,demoniacal voice spoke from the _mibkharah_, saying--
"I am _Hashish_! I drive men mad! Whilst thou hast lain up there likea very fool, I have sent my vapors to thy brain and stolen thy sensesfrom thee. It was for this purpose that I was set here beneath thewindow where thou couldst not fail to enjoy the full benefit of mypoisonous perfume...."
Slipping off the ledge, I fell ... and darkness closed about me.
VI
My awakening constitutes one of the most painful recollections of anot uneventful career; for, with aching head and tortured limbs, I satupright upon the floor of a tiny, stuffy, and uncleanly cell! The onlylight was that which entered by way of a little grating in the door.I was a prisoner; and, in the same instant that I realized the factof my incarceration, I realized also that I had been duped. The weirdhappenings in the apartment of Mohammed er-Rahman had beenhallucinations due to my having inhaled the fumes of some preparationof _hashish_, or Indian hemp. The characteristic sickly odor of thedrug had been concealed by the pungency of the other and moreodoriferous perfumes; and because of the position of the censercontaining the burning _hashish_, no one else in the room had beenaffected by its vapor. Could it have been that Abu Tabah had knownof my presence from the first?
I rose, unsteadily, and looked out through the grating into a narrowpassage. A native constable stood at one end of it, and beyond him Iobtained a glimpse of the entrance hall. Instantly I recognized thatI was under arrest at the Bab el-Khalk police station!
A great rage consumed me. Raising my fists I banged furiously uponthe door, and the Egyptian policeman came running along the passage.
"What does this mean, _shawesh_?" I demanded. "Why am I detained here?I am an Englishman. Send the superintendent to me instantly."
The policeman's face expressed alternately anger, surprise, andstupefaction.
"You were brought here last night, most disgustingly and speechlesslydrunk, in a cart!" he replied.
"I demand to see the superintendent."
"Certainly, certainly, _effendim_!" cried the man, now thoroughlyalarmed. "In an instant, _effendim_!"
Such is the magical power of the word "Inglisi" (Englishman).
A painfully perturbed and apologetic native official appeared almostimmediately, to whom I explained that I had been to a fancy dress ballat the Gezira Palace Hotel, and, injudiciously walking homeward at alate hour, had been attacked and struck senseless. He was anxiouslycourteous, sending a man to Shepheard's with my written instructionsto bring back a change of apparel and offering me every facility forremoving my disguise and making myself presentable. The fact that hepalpably disbelieved my story did not render his concern one whit theless.
I discovered the hour to be close upon noon, and, once more my outwardself, I was about to depart from the Place Bab el-Khalk, when, intothe superintendent's room came Abu Tabah! His handsome ascetic faceexhibited grave concern as he saluted me.
"How can I express my sorrow, Kernaby Pasha," he said in his softfaultless English, "that so unfortunate and unseemly an accidentshould have befallen you? I learned of your presence here but a fewmoments ago, and I hastened to convey to you an assurance of mydeepest regret and sympathy."
"More than good of you," I replied. "I am much indebted."
"It grieves me," he continued suavely, "to learn that there arefootpads infesting the Cairo streets, and that an English gentlemanmay not walk home from a ball safely. I trust that you will providethe police with a detailed account of any valuables which you may havelost. I have here"--thrusting his hand into his robe--"the only itemof your property thus far recovered. No doubt you are somewhatshort-sighted, Kernaby Pasha, as I am, and experience a certaindifficulty in discerning the names of your partners upon your danceprogramme."
And with one of those sweet smiles which could so transfigure hisface, Abu Tabah handed me my opera-glasses!