“It seems to me,” declared Mrs. Everingham, after a moment’s thought, “that we must use the self-same weapons in fighting Kāra that he is employing. With the dragoman’s assistance it ought to be easy to save Aneth, even against her will.”
“In what way?” inquired Gerald, earnestly.
She did not reply at once. Instead, she studied the dragoman’s countenance with steadfast eyes. “What is your name?” she asked.
“Tadros, madam.”
“Will you follow our instructions faithfully, and not betray us to Prince Kāra?”
“Yes. I hate Kāra. He will kill me for deserting him if he gets the chance; but then he intends to kill me anyway as soon as he can spare my services. If your plan includes the murder of Prince Kāra, I shall be very glad.”
“It does not; but we will protect you from any harm, rest assured. Your task is simple. When you call for Miss Consinor to-night you will drive her, not to the prince’s villa, but to the embankment, where you will place her on board Winston Bey’s dahabeah. It will lie opposite Roda, on the west bank. Cross the Gizireh bridge and drive as rapidly as possible to the boat, where we shall be waiting to receive you.”
“My dahabeah!” cricd Winston, astonished.
“To be sure. You will have everything in readiness for a voyage up the Nile, with a prisoner aboard.”
“A prisoner?”
“Yes; Aneth. She will, of course, refuse to go willingly, having given Kāra her word. I will accompany the party as her keeper, and we must find some way to induce Lord Roane to join us also. Once afloat on the mysterious river, Kāra will have no means of knowing what has become of his victims, and before we return, my friend, we shall have perfected such arrangements as will render the prince’s intention to marry our Aneth impossible. That is why I desire Lord Roane to join the party. He also will be safe from Kāra for a time.”
“I understand you now,” said Winston; “and while I do not see quite to the end of the adventure, the plan will at least give us time to formulate our future action and enable us to thwart Kāra’s immediate schemes.”
“That is my idea,” she returned. “Something must be done at once; and by abducting Aneth, we not only gain time, but save her temporarily from the consequences of her own folly.”
Then she turned to Tadros.
“What do you think of my plan?” she asked.
“It is excellent,” said he, “except for one thing; there are several spies about this hotel, who would at once follow us and inform Kāra that we had boarded the dahabeah; but I think I can find a way to throw them off the scent. They are under my orders, and I will send them to other stations before nine o’clock. Aside from this, then, do I understand that my only duty is to deliver the young lady on board the dahabeah?”
“That is all we ask.”
“I will show three red lights,” said Winston, “so that you cannot mistake the exact location of the boat.”
“I know the boat,” replied the dragoman. “Abdallah, your engineer, is a friend of mine.”
“You will not fail us?” asked Mrs. Everingham, anxiously. “All depends upon you, Tadros!”
“I know, and I will not fail you,” he said.
“I believe you will earn the three thousand pounds,” remarked Winston, significantly.
“As for that, sir,” replied the dragoman, with dignity, “I hope you will give me credit for a little humanity as well as cupidity. Being an Egyptian, I love money; being a man, I am eager to assist a woman in distress. But, above all else, I shall have pleasure in defying Kāra, who hates me as heartily as I hate him. Thus, three passions vouch for my fidelity — love, pity and hatred. Can you doubt my devotion to the cause?”
After this he went away, leaving his fellow-conspirators to plan the details of the evening’s adventure.
CHAPTER XIX.
THE ABDUCTION.
Mrs. Everingham passed the afternoon in Aneth’s company. The girl was visibly nervous and excited, but made pitiful attempts to conceal her weakness. In no way did she allude to Kāra or to the fact that the hour had arrived when she was to consummate the sacrifice of her own happiness to maintain her grandfather’s integrity and the honor of her family’s name.
Her friend ventured one or two remarks about the folly of her promise and the absurdity of keeping it; but these so distressed Aneth, and had so little visible influence upon her decision, that Mrs. Everingham abandoned the topic and turned the conversation into more cheerful channels. When she mentioned Gerald Winston she noticed that Aneth’s cheeks flamed scarlet and then turned deathly white; so here was another subject to be avoided, if she did not wish to make the girl’s position unbearable. Indeed, those last days of association with Gerald had taught Aneth the full extent of her martyrdom, and now she began to realize that she was losing all that might have rendered her life’s happiness complete, had it not been for the advent of Kāra and his terrible threat to destroy the family honor and send her loving grandfather to prison.
Early in the evening Mrs. Everingham kissed her friend and returned to her own room across the corridor, there to complete her simple preparations for the proposed voyage.
Meantime Winston had been busy with Lord Roane. The young man was fortunately a prime favorite with Aneth’s grandsire, and he listened attentively to Gerald’s explanation of a plot to rescue his darling grandchild from the slough of despondency into which she had fallen.
“Mrs. Everingham is confident a Nile voyage would do much to cheer her up and keep her from dwelling upon her troubles,” he suggested. “What do you think of the idea, sir?”
“Capital,” said Roane — ”if Aneth can be induced to consent. I asked her to run over to Helwan the other day, for a few weeks’ change of scene; but she declared she would not listen to such a proposal.”
“That is our difficulty,” acknowledged Winston, speaking in a confidential tone. “She has told Mrs. Everingham she would not leave Cairo, but we think her decision is based upon the fear that you would be unable to accompany her; so we have decided to engage in a little conspiracy, for the morbid condition into which she has fallen has made us all anxious. Is there any reason, my lord, why you should not leave Cairo for a month or so?”
“None whatever, if my going will benefit Aneth in any way.”
“Very good! Now, here is our plan. I have fitted my private dahabeah for a cruise. Mrs. Everingham will go along to chaperone your granddaughter, and you will join us to complete her happiness and keep her contented. Only one thing stands in our way — the young lady’s refusal to embark. That barrier will be surmounted by Mrs. Everingham, who is a woman of experience and who loves Aneth as well as if she were her own daughter. So this evening you and I will get aboard quietly, without declaring our intentions to anyone, and rely upon Mrs. Everingham’s promise to join us with Aneth at nine o’clock. Do not ask me, sir, how she will succeed in overcoming your granddaughter’s scruples against leaving Cairo. We will trust to woman’s wit. When the party is embarked, we go up the Nile, to find roses for your grandchild’s pale cheeks and have a jolly good time as well.”
Roane accepted the program with enthusiasm. He himself was in a dreadfully nervous state, expecting hourly to be accused of a crime the proof of which would separate him forever from Aneth. To get away from Cairo just now, without Kāra’s knowing where he had gone, would be to gain a few weeks’ respite. Eagerly he availed himself of the opportunity.
Winston knew there was no danger of the old man’s betraying their plans, but he could not divine what Kāra’s next move might be, and resolved to take no chances; so he clung fast to Roane until he had put him and his light luggage aboard the dahabeah, whereupon he sent a messenger to apprise Mrs. Everingham of his success.
So far, all had gone well; but Mrs. Everingham’s anxiety grew as the hour of nine approached. Lord Roane had sent word to Aneth that he would be out for dinner and might not return to the hotel until late that night; so the girl, glad of th
is fortunate chance, had her dinner served in her own room, and the Arab servant, being intercepted by Mrs. Everingham, declared that she ate little and wept continually, as if overcome by some hopeless sorrow.
All depended now upon the faithfulness of Tadros the dragoman, and Mrs. Everingham, finding nothing more for her woman’s ingenuity to devise, entered a carriage at half past-eight o’clock and was driven quietly to the embankment. Within sight of the three red lights Winston had displayed, she halted her vehicle to await the arrival of the dragoman.
Tadros, meantime, being fully instructed by Kāra as to the conduct of his mission, drove in the Egyptian’s private carriage to the hotel. The coachman had been instructed to obey the dragoman’s orders implicitly, so he suspected nothing when Tadros, having alighted at the Savoy, commanded him to drive to the citadel and remain in the shadow of the mosque until midnight.
The dragoman then hired another carriage that was driven by a sleepy and stupid-looking Arab, after which he immediately entered the hotel and went directly to Aneth’s room.
She opened the door in person, having dismissed all her attendants.
“It is nine o’clock, miss,” announced Tadros, as he entered.
The girl clasped her hands with a gesture and look of terror.
“Where is — is — Prince Kāra?” she asked, vaguely.
“At his villa, awaiting, with the bridal party, your arrival. You must understand that the wedding is to be very quietly conducted, yet strictly in accordance with the requirements of the Christian faith. My master desires me to say that every consideration and courtesy shall be shown you, his highest ambition in the future being to promote your happiness.”
She shuddered.
“Is that all he said?”
“Except that his promises to you shall be faithfully kept, and Lord Roane’s comfort and safety carefully provided for.”
“Let us go,” she said, hastily. “I am ready.”
“Any luggage, miss?” he asked.
She pointed to a small traveling-case that stood beside her, and Tadros stooped and picked it up.
With a frightened glance around her, she placed a note directed to Lord Roane upon the table and then hurriedly left the room, leaving the door unlocked.
The dragoman escorted her to the side entrance, reserved for ladies, and they were fortunate in finding it almost deserted at that moment. Aneth entered the carriage quickly, as if fearful of being interrupted in her escape, and Tadros closed the door and took his scat beside the driver.
“To the opera house,” he said, for the benefit of the few loungers who stood upon the pavement.
After driving a couple of blocks, he made the Arab driver stop in front of a tobacco shop, and sent him in to purchase some cigarettes. The moment the fellow disappeared, Tadros started the horse and applied the whip, and the carriage had whirled swiftly around the comer before the wondering Arab returned to the street, to find his equipage and his passengers missing.
Aneth, as soon as she had leaned back against the cushions, had fallen into a sort of stupor. Her weary brain refused to think or to speculate upon the doubtful fate to which she was rushing. She felt the carriage bumping over the crossings and saw vaguely the lights flash by; but she noted neither the direction in which they were proceeding nor the length of their journey. Across the Nile bridge the horses abated their speed; but then through the darker lanes of the west embankment they dashed along at a wild pace, that might have frightened the girl, had she been capable of realizing the actual conditions.
Suddenly, with a jolt that almost threw her into the opposite seat, the carriage halted. She looked out of the window and saw three dim red lights burning, and beyond these the glint of a stray moonbeam upon the river.
When Tadros came to assist her in alighting, she saw Mrs. Everingham standing behind him.
“Where am I?” asked the girl, wildly.
“Hush, dear,” said her friend, taking her in her arms to kiss her tenderly. “Am I not welcome at your wedding?”
“But why are we here?” asked Aneth, pleadingly. “Why are we at the river, and where is Prince Kāra?”
“Come and let me surprise you,” answered Mrs. Everingham, soothingly, leading the young girl, who was still half dazed and thoroughly mystified, aboard the dahabeah and into the brightly lighted little cabin. There sat Lord Roane and Gerald Winston.
Aneth stared, and then, looking wildly around, she gave a plaintive cry and threw herself into her grandfather’s arms.
“I don’t understand!” she wailed, sobbing hysterically. “What does it all mean? Why are you here, and where is Prince Kāra?”
Roane was puzzled by her speech, as well as distressed by her agitation.
“Prince Kāra!” he repeated. “Confound it, Aneth, you don’t want that rascally nigger, do you?”
“No, no!” she replied; “but he wants me, and I have promised; I must go to him. Why am I here? What have you done?”
By this time the dragoman had tied his horses to a palm and come aboard, just as Hassan drew in the gangplank and Abdallah started the wheezy engine. Tadros stood in the cabin doorway and listened intently to Aneth’s protests.
“See here, miss,” he exclaimed, with assumed sternness, “you are in my charge, for I am Prince Kāra’s dragoman, and you have promised to obey me. Is it not so?”
She turned to look at him.
“Are you obeying Prince Kāra’s orders?” she demanded.
“To be sure! He wished to surprise you. He says he merely intended to test your honesty, being interested in knowing whether an English girl would keep her promises. But he does not desire to make you unhappy. He is a prince, and generous; therefore, he releases you from your compact, and you are free from this time forth to do exactly as you please.”
She was white and trembling now.
“But my grandfather — ” she began, eagerly.
Tadros cut her short.
“He also is safe, in proof of which you see him at your side. You need have no fears in the future that — ”
He stopped abruptly, for the overwrought nerves of the girl could not withstand this sudden revulsion of fate. Gerald caught her swaying form and carried her to her berth, where Mrs. Everingham tended her lovingly and applied restoratives to relieve her faintness.
As for Lord Roane, he swore loudly and glared upon the dragoman.
“What cursed nonsense is this?” he cried.
Tadros smiled, and Gerald came up and seized the dragoman by both hands, pressing them warmly.
“Thank you, my man!” said he. “You are a loyal ally, and I shall not forget how you have lied to save us from an embarrassing position.” Then he turned to Lord Roane. “If there is anything your lordship does not understand,” he said, “I will gladly endeavor to explain it. Prince Kāra has been playing a deep game, with you and Aneth as pawns; but I think we have him checkmated at last.”
The old nobleman did not reply at once. Any questioning on his part would necessarily be a very delicate matter. He turned his eyes thoughtfully toward the shore, where the lights of Cairo were slowly disappearing from their view.
CHAPTER XX.
THE SHEIK AGREES.
Kāra congratulated himself. For one whose early life had been passed in a hovel, he had been very successful in directing the destinies of the great. All his grandmother’s vengeful plans, supplemented by his own clever arrangement of details, had matured in a remarkably satisfactory manner, and this evening he was destined to complete the ruin of Lord Roane’s family. In addition to compromising Aneth beyond all hope by a false marriage, he would to-morrow have my lord cast into prison on a charge of embezzlement. The proof which he had pretended to place in the girl’s keeping, and which she had without doubt promptly destroyed, was merely a forgery of the receipt to McFarland. The original was still safe in his custody.
This ruse had been a clever one. His judgment of the girl’s nature was marvelously accurate. Having destr
oyed the paper to insure her grandfather’s safety, Aneth was effectually prevented from breaking her contract with Kāra. There was no way for her to recede. He had paid the price, and she was left with no excuse for not fulfilling her part of the agreement.
When Kāra entered his courtyard he found it ablaze with lights. The women’s apartments, now completely refitted, were truly magnificent. A dozen servants, arrayed in splendid costumes, stood motionless at their posts, awaiting the arrival of their new mistress. Mykel, a rascally Copt whom Kāra had recently attached to his household, was clad in priestly robes, and paced up and down the court with an assumed dignity that elicited sly smiles from his fellow-servants.
Only the prince’s own people were present, for Kāra wished to be in a position to deny even the farce of a ceremony, should Aneth attempt in the future to use it as an excuse for her downfall. But it pleased him to lull her suspicions in this way in the beginning, and so render her an easy victim. It also gave an added flavor to his revenge.
Tadros had been carefully instructed, and would have no difficulty in fulfilling his mission. He ought to reach the villa on his return by half-past nine, allowing for natural delays. Kāra trusted Tadros because the dragoman was so completely in his power; but, with his usual caution, he had sent a spy to watch his messenger and report any irregularity in his conduct. Tadros did not know of this spy; otherwise, he might have felt less confidence in himself.
Half-past nine arrived, but no sound of carriage wheels broke the stillness. The servants stood motionless in their places, and Kāra paced the courtyard in deep reflection while engaged in drawing on his white kid gloves. The false priest stood under the bower of roses where the ceremony was to take place, trying to find the service in the Coptic Bible he had borrowed.
Nine-forty-five; ten o’clock. The dark-eyed servants noticed that their master grew uneasy and cast anxious glances toward the entrance.
Complete Works of L. Frank Baum Page 793