Hagar of the Pawn-Shop

by Fergus Hume

  “Was your flight successful?”

  “Alas, no,” replied Alee, in melancholy tones. “Achmet was on the watch, and had me followed. My wife was taken from me by force, but only too willingly on her own part. For daring to disobey the royal command I suffered the bastinado on the soles of my feet until I fainted away.”

  “Poor Alee!”

  “Mad with anger, I let the wrath of the heart overpower the judgment of the mind, and rashly joined in a conspiracy to overthrow the King of Kings. Again my evil genius Achmet thwarted and discovered me. I was forced to fly from Persia to save my life; and all my wealth was forfeited to the royal treasury. A goodly portion of it, however, was given to Achmet for his having found out the conspiracy. After many adventures, which I need not relate here, I came to this land, where I have lived in poverty and misery for two years. My wife is a queen in the serail of the Shah; my enemy is the ruler of a province; and I, lady, am the exile you see. All that I carried out of the Shah’s kingdom was the ring which he gave me in exchange for my beautiful Ayesha.”

  He paused, and Hagar waited for him to continue the story. Finding that he still kept silent, she addressed him impatiently: “Is that all?”

  “Yes—except that since I have been here it has been told to me that both Achmet and Ayesha wish to get me back to Persia, that they may kill me. The Georgian never forgave me for carrying her away, and only my death will glut her vengeance. As for Achmet, he is never free from dread while I live, and wishes me to die also. If they can manage it, those two will have me carried back to Persia, and there have me slain.”

  “They can’t take you out of London against your will.”

  Alee shook his head. “Who knows!” said he. “There is the case of the Chinaman who was lured into the Embassy to be sent back to China. If the Government of England had not interfered he would have been a dead man by this time. I keep always away from the Persian Embassy.”

  “You are wise to do so,” replied Hagar, who remembered the case. “But about the ring. Why did you pawn it, and why did Mohommed steal it by means of the pawn-ticket?”

  “There was a friend of mine in Persia,” explained Alee, “who saved for me out of my property seized by the Shah a box of jewels. Knowing that I was starving in this land, he sent the Jewels to me in charge of a servant. I received a letter from him, in which he stated that the servant had been instructed to give up the Jewels to me when I produced the ring. I foolishly told Mohommed about this, and one night he tried to thieve the ring from me, thinking that he would show it to my friend’s servant and get my jewels. In fear lest he should obtain it, I pawned it with you for safety, until the servant should arrive.”

  “Is the servant here now?”

  “He arrived last week,” replied Alee, mournfully, “and he is now waiting for me at Southampton. But, alas! I speak foolishly. When I fell ill after pawning the ring, Mohommed stole the ticket, and, as you know, he obtained the ring. I have no doubt that by this time he has shown it to the servant of my friend, and is possessed of the jewels. Mohommed the accursed is rich, and I remain poor. Now, lady, you know why a darkness came over my spirit, and why I fell as one bereft of life. Surely, I am the sport of Fortune, and the most unlucky of men! I am he of whom the poet spoke when he said:

  ‘Strive not, contend not; thy future is woe; Accept of thy sorrows, for Fortune’s thy foe.’”

  The poor man recited this couplet in faltering tones, and burst into tears, rocking himself to and fro in an agony of grief. Hagar was sorry for this unfortunate person, who had been so unlucky as to lose wife, and wealth, and country. She gave him the only comfort that was in her power.

  “Here are twenty shillings,” said she, placing some silver in his hand. “Perhaps Mohommed has not yet gone to Southampton; or it may be that the servant with your jewels has not yet arrived. Go down to Hampshire, and see if you can recover your ring.”

  Alee thanked her with great emotion, and shortly afterwards left the shop, promising to tell her of the issue of this adventure. Hagar saw him go away with the fullest belief in his honesty of purpose, and perfect trust in the truth of his story; but later on, when alone, she began to wonder if she had not been gulfed by two sharpers. The whole story told by Alee was so like an adventure of the “Arabian Nights” that Hagar became more than a trifle doubtful of its truth. As the days went by, and Alee did not return as he had promised, she fancied that her belief was a true one.

  “Those two Persians have played a comedy of which I have been the dupe,” she said to herself; “it has all been done to get money. And yet I am not sure; the pair would not take all that trouble for a miserable twenty shillings. After all, Alee’s story may be true; and he may be at Southampton trying to recover his ring and jewels.”

  In this conjecture she was perfectly right, for all the days of his absence Alee had been at Southampton vainly looking for Mohommed the thief. His twenty shillings had soon been expanded; but luckily he had met with an Englishman whom he had known in Persia. This gentleman, an Oriental scholar and a liberal-minded man, had recognized Alee, dirty and miserable, as he haunted the Southampton quays looking for the servant of his friend and the recreant Mohommed. Carthew—for that was the Englishman’s name—was profoundly shocked to find one whom he had known wealthy in such misery. He took Alee to his hotel, supplied him with food and clothes, and requested to know how the Persian had fallen so low. Alee told this Samaritan the same story as he had told Hagar; but, versed in the craft and topsy-turvydom of the East, Carthew was not so surprised or sceptical as the gipsy girl had been. He was sorry for poor Alee, who had been for so long the butt of Fortune, and determined to befriend him.

  “I suppose there is no chance of your regaining the Shah’s favor?” he asked the unfortunate man in his own tongue.

  “Alas! no. What is, is. I conspired against the King of Kings; I was betrayed by Achmet; so there is no way in which I can approach again the Asylum of the Universe.”

  “Humph! looks like it,” growled Carthew, stroking his white beard. “And Achmet, that son of a burnt father, is high in favor?”

  “Yes; he is the governor of a province, and as he is friendly with Ayesha, who is now the favorite of the Shah, he is above all fortune. It is strange,” added Alee, reflectively, “that those so rich and high-placed should wish to get me back to my death.”

  “They know they have wronged you, my friend, and so they hate you. But you are safe in England. Even the Shah cannot seize you here.”

  Alee reminded Carthew, as he had done Hagar, of the Chinese kidnapping case which had created so great a stir in England. Carthew laughed. “Why, don’t you see that the case is your very safeguard?” said he. “If the Persian Embassy seized you, they would have to release you. Remember, now that I have met you, you are not friendless. You stay by me, Alee, and you will be safe from the vengeance of your wife and Achmet.”

  “But I do not wish to live on your charity.”

  “You needn’t,” said the Oriental scholar, bluntly. “As you know, I am translating the Epic of Kings which Ferdusi wrote. You must assist me, and I’ll engage you as my secretary. In a few months you’ll be on your feet again, and no doubt I shall be able to find you some regular employment. As for that scoundrel Mohommed who stole the ring, I’ll set the police after him. By the way, I suppose he dare not go back to Persia again!”

  “No; he was a conspirator also,” replied Alee. “We fled together from the wrath of the Shah. He was nearly captured and beheaded in mistake for me, as we are so like one another; but he managed to escape, and joined me in England. Still, he is safer here than I, as he has no powerful enemies who desire his return to Persia.”

  “It’s a case of Dilly duck, come and be killed,” said Carthew, with a grim laugh. “Well, we must hunt up the scoundrel, and find your jewels if possible. Who was the friend who sent them to you?”

  “Feshnavat, of Shiraz. He was a friend of my father’s, and is, as you know, a great merchant
.”

  “Yes, I know him,” said Carthew, nodding; “a fine old man. I have no doubt he recovered your jewels, and sent them here all right. The pity is that he made their delivery depend upon the showing of the Shah’s ring. Though, to be sure, he never anticipated that a villain would rob you of it. Truly, Alee, you are the most unlucky of men!”

  “Not since I met with you, O comforter of the poor!” replied Alee, gratefully “You have been charitable and good, even as the woman who helped me in the great city. But to both reward shall come. What says the poet:

  ‘Give freely to the poor your gold; What’s spent will come back forty-fold.’”

  “Ah, Alee,” said Carthew, with a half-sigh, “your couplet and gratitude are but bringing the posey of the East into the prose of the West. You are in London, my friend—in ordinary, commonplace London; and not with Sa’adi in the gardens of Shiraz.”

  Carthew was as good as his word, and employed Alee to aid him in translating the Epic of Kings. With the first money which he earned the Persian visited Hagar—to repay her, and to tell her all that had befallen him since he had left her shop. Hagar was pleased to see him, and gratified at the refunding of the money; for such action quite restored her faith in Alee, which she had been beginning to lose. She asked after Mohommed; but concerning that rascal the Persian was unable to give any news.

  “He haf took my ring and jewels,” sighed Alee, mournfully, “and in some lan’ far away he live on my moneys. But the justice of Allah, who sees the black beetle in the black rock, will smite him. He will fall in his splendor and evil-doing, as the people of Od went down to the dust. It is written.”

  In the meantime Carthew, who had a genuine liking for Alee, made all inquiries about the absent Mohommed and the missing ring. For many weeks he learnt nothing; but finally chance set him on the track of the thief, and in the end he learnt all. He discovered what had become of Mohommed and of the ring; and the discovery astonished him not a little. It was an Attache of the Persian Embassy who revealed the truth; and Carthew judged it best that the lips of this same man should relate the story to Alee.

  “My friend,” said he one day to the Persian “do you know a countryman of yours called Mirza Baba?”

  “I have heard of him,” replied Alee, slowly, “but he has not seen my face, nor have I beheld him. Why do you ask?”

  “Because he knows what has become of your ring.”

  “And of Mohommed? Oh, my friend, tell me of these things!” cried the Persian.

  “Nay, Alee; it is better that the truth should come from the lips of Mirza Baba himself. I will ask him here to tell you.”

  “But he may learn who I am!” muttered Alee, in dismay.

  “I think not, as he has never seen your face,” replied Carthew, smiling, “besides ——” He broke off with a nod. “Well, you’ll hear the story as he tells it; but call all your self-command and Oriental impassiveness to your aid. You’ll need courage.”

  “Let it be as you say,” rejoined Alee, folding his hands. “To-day and to-morrow are in the hands of the All-Wise.”

  True to his promise, Carthew next day received Mirza Baba in his house, and introduced him to Alee, who gave his countryman a feigned name. The Persian of the Embassy, who was a very great man indeed, paid little attention to Alee, whom he regarded simply as the secretary of Carthew, and as one quite beneath his notice. This neglect suited Alee, who sat meekly on one side, and listened to his own story, and to the story of Mohommed and the missing ring. Mirza Baba, in response to the request of Carthew, told it over pipes and coffee, and greatly astonished Alee in the telling.

  “You know,” said the Mirza, addressing himself particularly to Carthew, and quite ignoring his own countryman, ” that this dog of an Alee, on whose head be curses! had the folly to conspire against the peace of the Shah—on whom be blessings! He escaped from the Land of the Sun, and came to this island of thine. Hither he was traced, and to assert the majesty of the Asylum of the Universe it was resolved that this son of a burnt father should be brought back to Persia for punishment. The Banou Ayesha, who is the Pearl of the East, was bent upon seeing the head of this traitor, to whom aforetime she had been wife, ere the King of Kings had deigned to cast his eyes upon her. Also Achmet, the most zealous of governors, who had discovered the conspiracy of the evil-minded Alee, wished to punish him. Orders were sent to our Embassy that Alee should be taken, even in the streets of London, and sent back in chains to the Court of Teheran; but this, it was difficult to do.

  “H’m! I think so!” replied Carthew, drily. “The Chinese Embassy tried on that game with Sun Yat, and had to give him up. The English Government do not recognize the Embassies as so many neutral territories in London.”

  “It is true; I know it,” answered Baba, coolly. “Well, as there was no chance of capturing Alee in that way, it was resolved to employ stratagem. A letter, purporting to be written by Feshnavat, of Shiraz, was sent to this traitor, in which it was set forth that a box of jewels, saved from the wreck of his property, was being sent to England, and that it would be given up at Southampton to the bearer of the Shah’s ring. You know of the ring, my friend?” added the Mirza.

  “Yes; the ring given by the Shah to Alee in exchange for his wife. Go on.”

  “That is so. The dog surrendered his spouse, who is now the Pearl of Persia, for the meanest ring worn by the Shah. It was known that he bore it to this land, so it was arranged by the Pearl and Achmet that such ring should be the means to lure this traitor to his death. Well, my friend,” continued Baba, with a chuckle, “the plot contrived by the wit of Banou Ayesha was successful. Alee went to Southampton, and finding the supposed servant of Feshnavat, produced the ring, and demanded the jewels. This was at night, so at once the traitor was seized, and placed on board the waiting vessel to be taken to Persia.”

  “That was very clever,” said Carthew, stealing a glance at Alee, who was painfully white. “And what happened then?”

  “Lies and misfortune,” replied Baba Mirza. “This Alee, when he learnt the truth, swore that he was not the man we sought, but one Mohommed, and that he had stolen the ring to get the jewels. Of course, no one believed this story, which, without doubt, was a mere trick to save his life. He was carefully watched, and was told that on arriving in Persia he would be beheaded at once. In fear of this death, the wretch escaped one night from the cabin in which he was confined, and threw himself into the sea. He left behind him the ring; and this, seeing that the man was dead, was taken to Persia, in proof that Alee had been seized. The ring is now worn by the Pearl of Persia; but never has she ceased regretting that Alee escaped her vengeance.”

  After telling this story, which was listened to, with outward composure but inward fear by Alee, the Mirza took his leave. When alone with the Persian, Carthew turned to address him.

  “Well, Alee,” said he, kindly, “you see Fortune has not forsaken you yet! She has saved you, and punished Mohommed for his theft.”

  “What is, is,” said Alee, with Oriental impassiveness; “but in truth it is wondrous that I escaped the snare. Now I can live in peace; for, thinking me dead, neither Ayesha nor Achmet will seek me again. I have lost the ring, it is true; but I have gained my life. Now I shall take another name, and dwell for the span of my days in England.”

  “It is a queer ending to the story,” said Carthew, reflectively.

  “The tale is as strange as any of the ‘Thousand and One Nights,’” replied Alee. “It should be written in letters of gold. It is of such that the poet writes:

  “Go forward on thy path, tho’ darkness hides it; Thy destiny is sure, for Allah guides it.”

  CHAPTER XII. THE PASSING OF HAGAR.

  IT was now two years since Hagar had presented herself to the astonished eyes of Jacob Dix, and one year since the death of the old miser had left her in sole charge of the pawnshop. During all these months she had striven hard to do her duty, for the sake of the man who had taken pity on her poverty. She had toi
led early and late; she had neglected no opportunity to make bargains; and she had lived penuriously the meanwhile. All moneys accruing from the business she had paid into the bank; and all accounts of receipts and payments she had placed in the hands of Vark, the lawyer. At any time that Goliath chose to arrive, she was ready to hand over the pawn-shop and property to him, after which it was her intention to leave.

  As yet she had no idea in her head what was to become of her when the arrival of the lost heir reduced her to the position of a pauper. It had, indeed, occurred to her that it would be best to return to her tribe again, and take up the old gipsy life. On account of Goliath she had exiled herself from the Romany tents: so when he came into his inheritance she would be free to return thereto. As a wealthy man, Jimmy Dix, alias Goliath, would not care to spend his life in roaming the country with vagrants; and thus she would be relieved of his presence. Hagar was getting very tired of the shop and the weary life of Carby’s Crescent; and often the nostalgia of the roads came upon her. Several times of late she had wished that Goliath would claim his heritage, and relieve her of the irksome task which she had taken on her own shoulders, out of gratitude to Jacob Dix. But as yet the absent heir had not made his appearance.

  Hagar knew very well that Eustace Lorn was looking for him. Pursuant to the promise he had given her, and expecting the reward of her hand on his return, Lorn had been these many months on the trail of the missing man. All over England and Scotland had he tramped, inquiring of every gipsy, every vagrant, every town scamp, the whereabouts of Goliath; but all in vain, for Goliath seemed to have vanished completely. Indeed, Eustace began to fear that he was not in the United Kingdom, else he would certainly have heard of him, or the man would have seen 1n the newspapers the advertisement inquiring for his whereabouts. From time to time Eustace wrote to Hagar of his ill success, and received replies wherein she expressed her detestation of the shop, and bidding him continue his search; whereupon, encouraged to fresh exertions, Eustace would resume his wanderings. His adventures while thus engaged were many and various; and in the end his efforts were crowned with success.