I should have liked to search the town for my lady of the yashmak, but having no clew to her present whereabouts, I realized the futility of such a proceeding. My last thought before I fell asleep that night was that some day in the near future I should visit Damascus.
I saw very little of Port Said, for we had arrived in the early morning and I was departing for Cairo by a train leaving shortly before midday. I wandered about the quaint streets a bit, however, and wondered if, from one of the latticed windows overhanging me, the dark eyes of Nahèmah were peering out.
Although I looked up and down the train carefully, I failed to find among the passengers any one whom I knew, and I settled down into my corner to study the novel scenery. The shipping in the Canal fascinated me for a long time, as did the figures which moved upon its shores. The ditches and embankments, aimlessly wandering footpaths, and moving figures which seemed to belong to a thousand years ago, seized upon my imagination as they seize upon the imagination of every traveler when first he beholds them.
But my story jumps now to Zagazig. The train stopped at that city; and, walking out into the corridor and lowering a window, I soon was absorbed in contemplation of that unique place. Its narrow, dirty, swarming streets; the millions of flies that boarded the train; the noisy veneers of sugar cane, tangerines and other commodities; the throng beyond the barriers gazing open-mouthed at me as I gazed open-mouthed at them--it was a first impression, but an indelible one.
I was not to know that it was written I should spend the night in Zagazig; but such was the case. Generally speaking, I have found the service on the Egyptian state railway very good, but a hitch of some kind occurred on this occasion, and after an hour or so of delay, it was definitely announced to the passengers that owing to an accident to the permanent way, the journey to Cairo could not be continued until the following morning.
Then commenced a rush which I did not understand at first, and in which, feeling no desire to exert myself unduly, I did not participate.
Half an hour later I ascertained that the only two hotels which the place boasted were full to overflowing, and realized what the rush had meant. It was all part of the great scheme of things, no doubt; but when, thanks to the kindly, if mercenary, offices of the International Sleeping Car attendant, I found myself in possession of a room at a sort of native khan in the lower end of the town, I experienced no very special gratitude toward Providence.
I have enjoyed the hospitality of less pleasing caravanserai since; but this was my first experience of the kind and I thought very little of it.
I killed time, somehow or other, until the dinner hour; and the train, which now reposed in a siding, became a rendezvous for those who desired to patronize the dining car. Evidently no sleeping cars were available--or perhaps that idea was beyond the imagination of the native officials-- and having left a trail of tobacco smoke along the principal native street, I turned into my apartment which I shared with ants, mosquitoes, and other things.
An examination of my room by candlelight revealed the presence of a cupboard, or what I thought to be a cupboard; but opening the double doors, I saw that it was a window, latticed and overlooking a lower apartment. In the room below was a table and a chair--so much I perceived by the light of an oil lamp which stood upon the table.
Then, stifling a gasp of amazement, I hastily snuffed my candle and peered down eagerly at an incredible scene.
V. With Much Reluctance.
NAHEMAH, no longer veiled, was sitting at the table and opposite her was the hideous wall-eyed attendant They were conversing in low tones, so that, strive as I would I could not overhear a word. You ask me why I spied upon the lady's privacy in this manner? It was for a very good reason.
Midway between the two, upon the rough boards of the table, lay the Lure of Souls, twinkling and glittering like a thing of incarnate light!
I observed that there was a door to the room below, almost immediately opposite to the window through which I was peering; and this door was opening very slowly and noiselessly. At least, I could hear no noise, but the one-eyed man detected something, for suddenly he started up and did a remarkable thing. Snatching the diamond from the table, he clapped it into the eyeless cavity of his skull and turned in a twinkling to face the intruder.
Then the door was thrown open, and Hamilton leaped into the room. I could scarcely credit my senses. Honestly, I thought I was dreaming.
Hamilton's whole face was changed; a hard, cunning look had come over it, and he held a revolver in his hand. Nahèmah sprang to her feet as he entered, but he covered the pair of them with his revolver, and, pointing to the one-eyed man, muttered something in a low voice.
Rage, fear, rebellion, chased in turn across the evil features of the Oriental; but there was something about Hamilton's manner that cowed.
Manipulating the sunken eyelids as though they had been of rubber, the guardian of the veiled lady slipped the diamond into the palm of his hand and tossed it, glittering, on to the table.
Hamilton's expression of triumph I shall never forget. One step forward he took and was about to snatch up the gem when out of the dark cavity of the doorway behind him stepped a second intruder. It was the Reverend Mr. Rawlingson.
The reverend gentleman's behavior was most unclerical. He leaped upon the unsuspecting Hamilton like a panther and jammed the muzzle of a revolver into that gentleman's right ear with quite unnecessary vigor. "You have been wasting your time, Farland!" he snapped, in a voice that was quite new to me; "that is, unless you have turned amateur detective."
He made no attempt to reach for the diamond, but just held out his hand, and, with his eyes fixed upon Hamilton, silently commanded the latter to hand over the gem. This Hamilton did with palpable reluctance. Mr. Rawlingson, who, though still clerically garbed, had discarded his spectacles, slipped the stone into his pocket, snatched the revolver from Hamilton's hand, and jerked his thumb in the direction of the open door. Hamilton shrugged his shoulders and walked out of the room.
For scarce a moment did Rawlingson's eyes turn to follow the retreating figure, but the chance was good enough for the one-eyed man, who launched himself through space like nothing so much as a kangaroo, bearing Rawlingson irresistibly to the floor! With his lean hands at the other's throat, he turned his solitary eye upon Nahèmah and muttered something gutturally. After a moment's hesitation she ran from the room.
Twenty seconds later I was downstairs, and ten seconds after that was helping Rawlingson to his feet. He was considerably shaken and boasted a very elegant design in bruises which was just beginning to reveal itself upon his throat; but otherwise he was unhurt.
"I have lost her, Mr. Fane!" were his first word's. "She knows this part of the world inside out. I have no case against Farland, but I am sorry to have lost the woman."
Was my mind in a whirl? Did I think that madness had seized me? The answers are both in the affirmative. I was staggered.
I always go to pieces with this part of the yarn, being an unpractical narrator, as I have already explained; but I may relieve your mind upon one point. I never saw Nahèmah and the one- eyed man again, nor have I since set eyes upon Hamilton. Mr. Rawlingson, the last time I heard from him, was in similar case.
The explanation of the whole thing was something of a blow to me, of course. The lily of Damascus who had fascinated me so hopelessly, was no Eastern woman at all. She was a Frenchwoman, I believe--at any rate they had a long record up against her in Paris. She had gone out after the Lure of Souls, and very ingeniously had made me her instrument.