“Why so?”
“Can’t you see, Gerald? No right-minded girl would ruin the life of the man she loves to save her grandfather from the consequences of his own errors. If she is in the mood to sacrifice, we will let her sacrifice Lord Roane instead of herself or you.”
“Oh!” he said, blankly. “I can’t do that, you know, Mrs. Everingham.”
“Why not?”
“It would not be honest or fair. And it would be selfish in me, and — and unmanly.”
“But I am not thinking of you at all, sir, except as the instrument. I am thinking of Aneth and her life’s happiness. Are you willing, on your part, to sacrifice her to such a man as Kāra, that he may crush her to gratify his revenge?”
“No; but — ”
“Will you permit her, in her blindness and folly, to break her own heart and ruin her own life, when you know that you can save her?”
“No.”
“The struggle is between you and Kāra. Lord Roane is a felon, and to save him from the penalty due his acts will be to merely postpone the day when another of his criminal misdeeds will be discovered. There is little possible redemption for a man who has attained his sinful years; but if the possibility did exist, the price would be too high. Opposed to the desirability of shielding this reprobate nobleman and giving Kāra his way — which simply means Aneth’s ruin — we must consider your mutual love and the prospect of a long life of happiness for you both. Do you dare to hesitate, Gerald Winston?”
“I will do exactly as you say, Mrs. Everingham,” he replied, impetuously. “I can’t let her go to this fiend — to the terrible fate that awaits her. Tell me what to do, and I will obey!”
“Your first duty will be to come with me to her room. And drop that long face, sir! Be cheery and lighthearted, and woo Aneth as tenderly as if you were wholly ignorant of the dreadful position she is in. Arrange to call again to-morrow, and in the future do not leave her alone for a single evening, and haunt her at all hours of the day. Remember that time is precious, and the situation demands all your skill and diplomacy. It cannot be a long siege; you must determine to capture her by attack.”
“I — I’ll try,” he said, nervously.
And so he met Aneth again, for the first time since her trouble had come upon her, and he performed his part so creditably that Mrs. Everingham had but little fault to find with her coadjutor. The sight of the girl’s swollen eyelids and her sad and resigned expression of countenance so aroused his loving pity and indignation at the cruel plot that had enmeshed her, that he could scarcely restrain the impulse to declare at once his love and entreat her to give him an immediate right to protect her.
Perhaps Aneth read something of his love for her in his eager face, for she joined with Mrs. Everingham in sustaining the flow of small talk that was likely to prove her best safeguard, and in this way was led to forget for the moment her cares and fears. She hesitated a moment when Gerald proposed to bring her a new book next afternoon, but finally consented. Therefore, he left her feeling more buoyant and hopeful than he had thought could be possible a few short hours before.
From that evening his former shyness disappeared, and he pushed his suit with as much ardor as he dared, utterly ignoring Aneth’s evident desire to restrain him from speaking too plainly. But sometimes she, too, forgot her impending fate, and gave way to the delight of these happy moments. Already she knew that Gerald loved her, for her woman’s instinct was alert, and at night she lay upon her bed and wailed miserably because the gates of paradise had suddenly opened before her, and her willing feet were so bound that she might not enter.
During these days Lord Roane devoted much of his time to his grandchild, treating her with almost reverential tenderness and striving in every possible way to cheer her spirits. The old man realized that his probation might be short. At any moment Kāra was liable to fulfil his threat and expose him to the authorities, and involuntarily he caught himself listening at all times for the footfall of the official coming to arrest him. He even wondered why he had escaped so long, knowing nothing of the manner in which Aneth had saved him.
And the girl, noting his loving care for her and marking the trouble that often clouded his handsome face, was encouraged in her resolve to carry out her compact with Kāra rather than see her aged grandfather thrust into prison, humiliated and disgraced.
Between her awakening love for Gerald Winston and her desire to save the family honor, the girl was indeed in pitiable straits. Yet never for a moment did she hesitate as to which way the path of duty led.
She felt that every day she remained unmolested by the Egyptian was a precious boon to be grateful for, yet always she dreaded Kāra’s summons. However, he was in no hurry, realizing the bitterness to her of these days of waiting, and enjoying the prolongation of her sufferings. All the love that Kāra had formerly borne the girl seemed to have dissolved as if by magic, and in its place had grown up schemes for so horrible a vengeance that he often wondered whether Hatatcha herself might not have hesitated to accomplish it.
But Kāra did not hesitate. The very diablerie of the thing fascinated and delighted him, and he anticipated the event with eager joy.
Tadros spent much of his time at the hotel, in charge of Kāra’s elaborate system of espionage. His functions as dragoman gained for him special privileges, and the hall porter allowed him free access to the lobby; yet he was only able to enter the upper halls when he could plead some definite errand. This excuse was provided by a guest of the hotel, an agreeable Frenchman who was in Kāra’s employ and maintained a surveillance over the interior of the establishment, while a half-dozen Arabs and Copts watched carefully the exterior. Thus Tadros was enabled to keep in close touch with the movements of Lord Roane and Aneth, as well as to spy upon those who might visit them, and his orders were to report promptly to Kāra any suspicious circumstances which might indicate that his victims were planning their escape.
But, from the dragoman’s reports, all seemed well, and his prospective prey apparently made no effort to evade their fate.
Kāra depended much upon Aneth’s delicate sense of honor and her strength of character, and read her so truly that there was little chance of her disappointing him. Roane, however, caused him a little uneasiness, and the Egyptian’s spies shadowed him wherever he went. But Kāra misjudged the old gentleman if he supposed that Roane would tamely submit to Aneth’s sacrifice had he known her secret. The girl understood him better, and although she did not know of his indignant rejection of Kāra’s offer to shield him at the expense of his granddaughter’s happiness, Aneth knew that if Roane learned the truth he would at once give himself up to justice in order to save her; and here was a danger the clever Egyptian had not even suspected.
In many of his dealings Roane was doubtless an unprincipled knave; but certain points of character were so impressed upon his nature, through inheritance from generations of more noble Consinors, that in matters of chivalry his honor could not be successfully challenged.
The dragoman said nothing to Kāra about Winston’s frequent visits to Aneth. During his hours of watching Tadros indulged in reflection, and these musings encouraged a growing resentment toward his master that destroyed much of his value as a confidential servant. Aside from the resentment, Tadros was afraid of Kāra, and also uneasy as to his financial condition. The prince, who was accustomed to scatter money with a liberal hand, had of late refrained from exhibiting a single piastre. Tadros wondered, and grew suspicious. One evening, as he reported to Kāra, he said:
“The tradesmen are clamoring for their money. They say you are not paying them as promptly as you did heretofore.”
Kāra looked up with surprise.
“Is not my credit good?” he inquired.
“For the present, yes,” replied the dragoman; “but it will not remain good unless you begin to pay for all the magnificence you are putting into this villa.”
“I see,” said Kāra, nodding thoughtfully. “They are
fools, my Tadros, but they might become troublesome. Keep them satisfied with promises for a time longer. That should not be a difficult task.”
Tadros looked at him distrustfully.
“Tell me, my prince; have you spent all your treasure?” he asked.
The Egyptian smiled.
“If I should live a thousand years, my Tadios,” he returned, “I could not spend the half of it.”
“Then why do you not pay these merchants?”
“Because I have at this time no more money in the bank, and it is not convenient for me to leave Cairo just now to secure a further supply.”
“Oh, I see!” remarked the dragoman, heaving a sigh of relief. “You must make another trip to Fedah.”
Kāra gave him one of those intent, thoughtful looks that always made Tadros uneasy; but when he spoke his voice sounded soft and pleasant.
“What causes you to think my treasure is at Fedah, my good friend?” he asked.
The tone reassured the dragoman.
“It stands to reason, my prince, that it is there,” he answered, with frank indifference. “Do I not well remember first seeing the papyri in your house, and afterward carrying away from there the heavy traveling case that was filled with precious gems?”
“Ah! was it?”
“Of course, Kāra. How else could you give so many ancient gems to the Van der Veens to recut, or turn so many more into money by selling them to Andalaft, the jeweler?”
“You have been observant, my Tadros.”
“It is natural. I am no fool. But if, as you say, there is more treasure at Fedah, I will undertake to keep the rascally tradesmen quiet until you can make another deposit in the bank.”
Kāra was still reading the countenance of his dragoman.
“It is quite evident that you are no fool, my Tadros,” he said, softly; “yet I had not imagined you capable of so much shrewdness and wisdom. Look you! Fedah consists of a rock and a few stone houses cemented with Nile mud. It is familiar to you, being your birthplace as well as my own. Now where do you suppose, within the limits of that simple village, a treasure could have been discovered?”
“It has puzzled me,” acknowledged Tadros; “but I suppose you do not wish me to know the exact location. Nevertheless, it is evident that the treasure is a very ancient one, and therefore it must have been hidden by your forefathers in the mountain itself, or perhaps on the desert that adjoins the village.”
“A long-buried and forgotten temple; eh, Tadros?”
“Oh, no; a tomb, of course! They did not keep pearls and rubies in the temples. Only in tombs could such trinkets be found. That is why I believe your statement that you are the last descendant of the great kings of Egypt; for this tomb was not discovered by accident, I know. The secret of its existence must have been handed down through the generations. Hatatcha knew, and told you of it before she died; so it is your personal property, and its possession proves your noble blood. I am glad the treasure is ample; for at the rate you are squandering money, it would otherwise be soon exhausted.”
“Very wisely argued, indeed,” said Kāra. “I wonder how much of my inheritance has already found its way into your own pockets.”
“Not too much, you may be sure,” answered the dragoman, gravely. “I am very honest, and take only my rightful perquisites. It is better, that these trifles should go to me than to strangers, for I am your own kinsman and almost as pure an Egyptian as yourself.”
“True. I do not complain, my Tadros. But in acquiring my money you should take care not to acquire too much knowledge of my affairs with it, for such knowledge is liable to prove extremely dangerous. Consider the pearls of wisdom that have even now dropped from your lips. Must they not be repaid? And already I am greatly in your debt.”
“You are talking riddles,” growled the dragoman, uneasily. “Tell me what you mean in plain words.”
“Do you remember the day that Nephthys broke her water-jar?”
“Yes.”
“You struck me, your prince, and knocked me down.”
“Well, you choked me afterward. That should even the score.”
“Not quite. I choked you for spying upon me. That was another offense. The blow has not yet been accounted for.”
Tadros frowned.
“I do not bear grudges myself,” he muttered.
“There are a few other matters scored against your account,” continued Kāra. “Still, so long as you serve me faithfully, and I have need of you, I shall not exact a reckoning; but they stand on record, my Tadros, and some day the account must be balanced. Do not forget that. For these reasons, and remembering that you have declared yourself no fool, I am certain that you will admit you were wrong about the location of my treasure. When you think it over, you will conclude that it lies in Luxor, or Abydos, or perhaps is a myth altogether, and never has existed. And, when you chatter to others, no mention of a hidden tomb or temple will be permitted to pass your lips. I am quite sure you will be circumspect, and I trust you to keep to yourself the secret of my affairs. If I thought you would betray me, I would kill you now, instead of waiting. But you will not do that; you are too fond of living and of the money you are saving to hazard losing both.”
Tadros returned to his duties in a very thoughtful mood. In playing upon his fears, Kāra had overreached himself, and made the dragoman so much afraid that he believed his life hung by a thread. Therefore, he sought most earnestly for a way of escape from the thrall of his terrible countryman.
The following morning Gerald Winston, on leaving Mrs. Everingham after a conference concerning their plans, met Tadros face to face in the corridor of the hotel. He recognized the man at once as Kāra’s dragoman and confidential servant. Moreover, he suspected that the fellow had just come from the Consinor apartments; so he had no hesitation in accosting him.
“May I speak with you a moment in private?” he asked.
“Most certainly, sir.”
Winston led the way into Mrs. Everingham’s drawing-room, where the lady greeted his return with surprise, but a quick appreciation of the importance of securing an interview with Kāra’s confidant.
“You are Prince Kāra’s dragoman, I believe?” began the Englishman.
“Yes, Winston Bey.”
“And devoted to him personally, of course?”
“To an extent, naturally,” returned Tadros, hesitating what to say. “You see, he pays me liberally.”
Winston and Mrs. Everingham exchanged glances. Then the lady took up the conversation.
“Prince Kāra,” she said, in a stem tone, “is a scoundrel, being even now engaged in perfecting one of the most diabolical plots the mind of man has ever conceived.”
Tadros did not reply. It was not his business to deny the charge.
“Our desire and intention to defeat this plot,” she continued, “lead us to speak to you frankly. We must save Miss Consinor from an ignoble alliance with your master.”
Tadros listened carefully.
“To accomplish our purpose, we are willing to expend a great deal of money — enough to make some faithful ally comfortable for the remainder of his life.” A pause followed this significant statement. Tadros felt the effect of their scrutinizing glances, and cleared his throat while he looked swiftly around to make sure they could not be overheard. Then, reassured, he answered with his native bluntness of speech.
“I am willing to earn this money,” said he, “if you will show me how to do it with safety. Kāra is a fiend. He would not hesitate to kill all three of us if he had reason to suspect we were plotting against him.”
“I will give you a thousand pounds,” said Winston, “if you will tell us what you know of Kāra’s plans. I will give you two thousand pounds additional if we succeed in saving Miss Consinor.”
Tadros was pleased. He had intended to break with Kāra anyway. To be well paid for doing this was a stroke of good fortune.
“I accept your offer,” he replied. “But I must inform you th
at there is no time to be lost. I have just taken a message to Miss Consinor, telling her to be ready to go to Kāra at nine o’clock this evening.”
“This evening!” exclaimed Winston, alarmed. “And what was her reply?”
“She assured me that she would keep her compact with the prince and be ready to accompany me at the hour named. I am to call for her and take her in a closed carriage to Kāra’s villa.”
“And then?” asked Mrs. Everingham, eagerly. “Then there is to be a mock ceremony of marriage, which is intended to entrap the young lady so that she will think everything is regular, and will make no disturbance,” answered Tadros, calmly. “A Copt, named Mykel, who is one of Kāra’s servants, is to be dressed as a priest and perform the Coptic marriage service, which is a Christian function not unlike your own. But the man is not a priest, and the marriage will be illegal. The intention is to destroy the young lady’s good name, after which Kāra will drive her away. Then he intends to deliver her grandfather, Lord Roane, over to justice.”
“What a dreadful crime!” exclaimed Mrs. Everingham, indignantly. “And Aneth is sacrificing herself because she believes the act will save her grandfather.”
“That is Kāra’s promise,” returned the dragoman. ‘But he has no intention of keeping it. Did he not give her a forged copy of Roane’s receipt? For some reason my prince aims at the ruin of the entire Consinor family. The young lady’s father he has already disgraced and driven from Cairo.”
“I understand his motive,” said Winston, “and believe you are right in claiming that Kāra will not spare Lord Roane once Aneth is in his power. The danger is terrible and imminent, for nothing will move Aneth to abandon her purpose. She imagines she is saving Roane, and has exacted from us a promise not to tell the old gentleman of her sacrifice. So our hands are tied.”
Complete Works of L. Frank Baum Page 792