Complete Works of Talbot Mundy

by Talbot Mundy

  It was clear enough that I was not going to extract the secret from him by any amount of arguing along that line, just as it was obvious that the way to learn the secret was to dig — out there on those thousand acres in the Fayoum. There was only one piece of information that really seemed worth trying for in that bedroom, and Moustapha Pasha was such an irritable braggart that the effort seemed worth making.

  “There’s law in this land, too,” I said, “although you possibly don’t believe it — yet. I think I know enough about you now to have you arrested and held for trial on a charge of attempted extortion. You might not be convicted by a jury. I don’t know. But I’m dead sure I could prevent your leaving this country for a year; and a year would be all I need to look into this Fayoum property.”

  The keeper passes along inside the guard-rail.

  “You would be watched, you know. You wouldn’t be able to jump your bail,” I added.

  “Oh, you Yankees! You all think you’re damned smart!” he answered. “Have me arrested! Much good that will do you! I dare say you have not enough imagination to make you dread the retaliation that you will never be able to avoid! But do you, in the fatuous infancy of your foolish, stupid heart, believe that you have me alone to deal with? Idiot! Imbecile! I am a man of importance, it is true, as any ambassador must be. It would cause great inconvenience if you were to immobilize me, as you suggest in your crass ignorance. But — huh — kill me, and you shall see what you shall see! I am one of ten thousand. And every single one of those ten thousand will become your individual, drastic, determined enemy from the moment that you raise one finger to interfere with me in any way!”

  Well, I had what I wanted. There was nothing more to be gained by arguing with him. He was only likely to lie if I questioned him further.

  “Good night,” I said, “I’ll think your offer over. See you in the morning, maybe.”

  If I had been half my size I think he would have tried to murder me before I left the room, but there’s a certain advantage in weight and muscle, after all. He knew right then that the issue was joined between him and me to a conclusion — knew it as well as I did.

  CHAPTER VII. “The answer is still no”— “Then go to the Devil!”

  Noureddin Moustapha Pasha lay abed next morning, and I rode a freight train as far as the edge of Wyoming, where I caught the Overland for Chicago and New York. My next job was to interview the boss and talk him over to my point of view.

  It was not exactly easy. Meldrum Strange was in one of his cantankerous moods-feeling the weight of his money and disgruntled at the news of labour wars and politics and one thing and another. You would have thought the French and British had refused to pay their war debts to annoy him personally.

  “Joan Angela Leich,” he fumed. “She needs husband. She’s too wealthy to be at large without restraint. I suppose you’ve fallen in love with her. Is that it?”

  “Yes,” I said, “we all fall in love with her. Which class were you in, 1926 — or later? Mrs. Aintree is more in the field I canter with. She’s somewhere near the bottom of this again.”

  “The hell! You don’t mean it?”

  Meldrum Strange is much more easily interested in attack than in defence. Without being exactly a muckraker he is keener on exposing crookedness than on protecting or assisting honesty.

  I showed him a typewritten sheet I had found in our record office as we came through. We had been keeping tabs on Mrs. Aintree ever since we took in hand the destruction of her P.O.P. Society, and she was not in a position to do much without our knowing it. She had booked her passage for Alexandria — first-class, special cabin, self and maid — as the last entry on the sheet made clear.

  “The sooner she’s out of the country the better for everyone, herself included!” was Strange’s comment. “We’ve got our hands full, Ramsden,” he went on. “I can’t have you cavorting all over the world at the whim of Miss Angela Leich.”

  He took out one of his black cigars and started chewing it.

  “Has she been talking about me? What did she say?”

  “She said you’re an old fossil. Wants to buy you out.”

  “Hah! Takes after her father! I fought him for control of the Truckee United. It all but broke us both, but he had the best of it, and he called me a fossil, too. Well, what’s in this business?”

  Some chance memory of the war between Strange and Joan Angela’s father was what tipped the balance in my favour then, for you can’t shift Strange from his yes or no, unless some quirk in his own interior turns the trick. Nor can you fathom a man’s reasoning. Recollection of that war he waged against Joan’s father may have impelled him to keep an eye on her. Perhaps it turned him in her favour; stranger reversals than that have happened. At any rate, he began to listen intently.

  “Better wire Grim,” he said. “Let him break ground before you get there. You’d better engage your passage. So Joan Angela Leich thinks I’m an old fossil, eh? Tell me, how’s she looking?”

  There are thirteen lawful ways of reaching Egypt, and one that is unlawful and the best, though not the easiest, unless you know the right men and where to find them in a pinch. At that, you can work it going much more easily than coming; and the secret, of course, consists in making friends, which is less an art than an inclination. I had the luck that afternoon to come on Cappy Rainer at a club that he frequents, and we sorrowed for a while together about prohibition, until he remembered the flask in his hip-pocket.

  “It’s all right for seamen,” he said. “I approve of it for seamen, both at sea and ashore. But for master mariners and grown men in general it’s plain hell. That’s my last word. So you’re bound for Alex, eh? Spending good money on your passage, I don’t doubt. Firm’s money? Put it in your pocket, and save a week as well. The old Acushla’s dirty, mind; we’re carrying coal. She’ll be out of dry dock day after to-morrow, and the mate takes her round to Philly in ballast. I guess we’ll have the hatches on a week from now, and I’ll bet you fifty dollars I can name the hour and day we drop anchor in Alex harbour.”

  Well, now you know; but don’t blame me if you can’t work it too, because, as I said, you have got to know your skipper. They’re all great sticklers for the law unless old friendship, which is stronger than all the laws combined, should incline them to have a bet with you.

  Grim answered my long cable with two words:

  Important. Come.

  It was like him to leave everything else unsaid. About all we could do at our end was to watch Moustapha Pasha and Mrs. Aintree, and to wire Joan Angela that the game was on. Strange was against her going to Egypt, on the ground that she would upset the lot of us and make a picnic of what otherwise might be a serious campaign. However, the land in the Fayoum was hers, and she was her own mistress. She wired back to engage her passage by Cunard and Transcontinental to Brindisi.

  We kept our preparations quiet, naturally; and we knew almost hour by hour the movements of Mrs. Aintree and Moustapha Pasha. We knew that they met in Chicago, for instance, although our man failed to overhear their conversation, and the day before I left for Philadelphia, who should walk into the office but Moustapha Pasha himself, silk socks, silk shirt, silk handkerchief, silk hat and silky, smooth demeanour! He demanded to see me.

  “So you are a detective?” he began, without preliminary. “I have found out all about you. I have a system of my own, you see! I pay someone else to watch you while you spy on me-how deliciously simple!”

  “Did you find Mrs. Aintree expensive?” I asked him.

  “What do you mean? Who is Mrs. Aintree?”

  “I hope she didn’t overcharge you.”

  He nearly exploded, pacing the office floor without a trace left of his suavity, then suddenly stopped and tapped me on the chest with one finger, mastering his rage.

  “Yes-since your spies have told you — it was Mrs. Aintree. She described to me how you have hounded her. She told me the nature of your business — the extent of your ruthlessness �
�� the persistence with which you pursue your quarry. Very well. Listen to me. You are business people. I make you a business proposition. I will engage your firm to act on my behalf! I will jettison — is that the word? — my Egyptian partners, and instead of to them I will give my contract to you, fifty per cent of the proceeds from this business! I will let my partners in Egypt go to the devil.

  “All you have to do is to exercise that option that you showed me in Reno — keep quiet — protect me from those men in Egypt who will resent my bargaining with you, although I have a perfect moral right to do as I please in the matter — and acquire a bigger sum of money than you ever dreamed of in your wildest imagination! There! That is the kind of man I am! I face issues! What do you say?”

  “Where does Mrs. Aintree come in?” I asked him.

  “Mrs. Aintree and I intend to be married,” he answered pompously.

  “Here? In the States?”

  “No. In Egypt. I would not marry in this e pluribus unum of a country!”

  “What in Heaven’s name do you expect to gain by marrying Mrs. Aintree?” I asked him. Knowing her, and appraising him, I was rather bewildered for the moment.

  “That is my business and hers,” he retorted.

  “The question is: Do you accept my offer? What is your answer?”

  “The answer is no.”

  “I will give you sixty-six and two-thirds per cent.”

  “The answer is still no.”

  “Then go to the devil! I will fight you! And believe me, sir, I fight with deadly weapons! Good-bye for the present, and later on good riddance!”

  CHAPTER VIII. “If you want to bet I’ll bet with you”

  So it came to pass, as the old-time chroniclers would say whenever they wanted to omit unnecessary detail, that I reached Alexandria ahead of friend and enemy — two weeks ahead of Moustapha Pasha, three weeks ahead of Joan Angela, and exactly one dollar and eighty cents ahead of Cappy Rainer, who likes pinochle. Just as the splash of our anchor announced sunrise Grim stepped off the launch that had come for the pilot, and climbed aboard.

  The same old scholarly-looking, quiet-eyed Grim, less conspicuous than ever in a grey civilian suit. The only change that I could detect was a greater suggestion of freedom about his movements since he had left the Army. There were fewer folk who must be satisfied at all costs, and more who might be offended without danger of reprisals.

  “Here’s a wire that came a week ago,” he announced with a grin. “What d’you make of it?”

  It was from Strange. Grim had decoded it in pencil between the lines.

  Mrs. Aintree and Moustapha Pasha were married in Chicago two days before their boat sailed. Her letter of credit thirty thousand dollars probably exhausts her fortune. She has sold everything she owns except clothes and jewellery.

  It was chilly out there on deck, with the dawn wind blowing, and the sky that comfortless pale yellow and grey that Africa makes use of as a mask for her morning mood. We went into the chartroom, and the steward brought in hot coffee.

  “Has Moustapha already a wife in Egypt?” I asked. “He’s a Moslem, and can legally have four wives here; but that wouldn’t go in the States. She obviously married him to make sure of being allowed to land in Egypt. He swore to me that he wouldn’t get married in the States on any terms, which makes me think he was married here already and afraid of bigamy.”

  Grim shook his head.

  “He’s married. But until she makes a kick, there’s not much we can do. He could have been pinched in the States for perjury, bigamy, and Lord knows what else. But I doubt if he could be arrested on a British ship; and once in Egypt he’s safe.”

  “I suggest that we tell her as soon as she comes that she’s one of a harem,” I said. “She might take the next ship back and save a lot of trouble.”

  “Don’t you believe it!” Grim answered. “As long as she has thirty thousand dollars she’ll believe she’s clever. She’ll make use of him to come ashore, and when the hand’s played out she’ll simply return to the States and have the marriage annulled.”

  “Isn’t there a law here that can separate them and send her back?”

  “If he were a Christian, yes. Not otherwise, until she complains. It’s old stuff with a new quirk to it,” Grim answered. “There’s something underneath that sand in the Fayoum, and I’ve found a man who thinks he could tell if he chose. The law is quite clear; they can’t dig on private property, or remove antiquities without permission. Miss Leich left a British Tommy in charge of her huts, and a jackal couldn’t dig without his leave. He has even hired extra guards at his own expense, trusting to Miss Leich to repay him. He’s a first-class man.”

  “What’s your clue?” I asked.

  “Politics! The Gyppies are all sorting themselves out into parties in preparation for independence, and there’s going to be a struggle for power that will make home politics look like a one-ring circus. There’s only one thing goes in Egypt, and that’s money. The party with the biggest chest will get control. Control, of course, means more money, and there you are. There’s a political party that is rather small but very influential. One name’s as good as another, and they call themselves the Agrarian Bloc.

  “They hold no offices at present, but content themselves with working quietly against any other party that shows signs of strength. Their policy is to discredit everybody and keep quiet about themselves, so that when the time comes they’ll be the only outfit with any kind of reputation left to lose. They’re nearly all big landholders, and they intend to own all Egypt before they’re through.”

  “Is Mustapha Pasha a big landholder?” I asked.

  “He was, but he took a post-war header on the bull end of the cotton market — only just avoided bankruptcy. However, he knows a lot of inconvenient things about a lot of other people, and some of the members of the Agrarian Bloc felt they couldn’t afford to have him for an enemy. He’s in the secret of Miss Leich’s sand-patch. The others raised a fund between them and sent him over to the States with an introduction to Mrs. Aintree and to a firm of lawyers.”

  “But why on earth to her?”

  “Oh, Lord! She’s been in correspondence with half the political schemers of the world for years. She’s known in India, China, South Africa, South America — it was only a question with her which cat would jump first. I guess she has laid out most of her income on note paper and postage stamps, building up an impression abroad that she’s a woman of enormous influence. These Gyppies think she’s a marvel.”

  “Do you suppose she knows the secret of the sand-patch?”

  “Remains to be seen. It was probably her idea to incorporate in the U.S.A.,” Grim answered. “You see the idea? As the law stands now, whatever treasure might be discovered on Miss Leich’s land would be confiscated by Government. But after the British quit, although the same laws may remain in force nominally, it’s going to be much easier to side-step them, provided you have influence. The easiest and most obvious way would be to incorporate abroad, and argue that the law can’t be enforced for fear of foreign complications. Get me? The loot would line Egyptian pockets, but the Stars and Stripes would be the banner under which the burglars march. That’s the general theory of the thing.”

  “Then they don’t intend to dig until after Egypt gets her independence?”

  “I guess not. The scheme is to get possession of that land in the Fayoum so as to prevent anybody else from digging.”

  “But I don’t see yet,” I said, “where Mrs. Aintree comes in. What do they stand to gain by letting her share in it?”

  Grim laughed.

  “My guess is the Gyppies intended to use her and then drop her. She propaganded herself to a point where they believed she had influence in the States. They proposed to use her influence, and then leave her to meditate on balked ambition. But I guess she got the goods on Moustapha Pasha, and, by jiminy, her marrying him like that before he could leave the States rather looks as if she were coming to Egypt with a
can-opener in her hand! She means business.”

  “How about murder?” I suggested.

  “That’s their usual way of turning a page,” Grim answered with a laugh. “But she’s thought of that. She’ll have some way of making it unsafe to murder her. She might easily leave the secret sealed up in an envelope with instructions to someone to open it in case of her death. Supposing they believe she knows the secret, she would only have to let them know that she had done just that. She’s much more dangerous than—”

  “Let’s admit she’s deadly dangerous,” I interrupted. “What’s your plan?”

  “Dig!” he answered. “Miss Leich is coming, isn’t she? Get her consent and dig. D’you think she’ll stand for that, knowing Government will take the stuff?”

  “She’ll have a perfectly original notion of what to do — and do it!” I answered.

  “If they don’t get her first!”

  “What could they gain by killing her?” I asked. “The property would pass to her heirs, that’s all.”

  “Have you any proof that her heirs wouldn’t sell it for a song?” Grim retorted.

  “All right. Why not go straight to headquarters? Tell ’em the whole thing?”

  “That’s what we’re going to do,” he said, “but we’ll have to pick our men. I’ll tell you why: it may be a Golconda. The men who are interested are keeping it awfully quiet among themselves, but Narayan Singh and I have overheard some talk, and the figure they name would make the Federal Reserve Board blink — fifty million pounds, or say two billion dollars!”