Part 10 (2/2)

Biggles nodded. ”Look here,” he said; ”let us think it over. We don't know you and you don't know us, but if you can a.s.sure us that we should receive a fair price-a price that might tempt me to part with them-we might consider it. By the way, how should we be paid?” he asked curiously.

”Why, in gold, surely,” replied the other quickly. ”Such men as my patron do not use paper money. The Sheikh is rich far beyond the Western ideas of wealth,” he added.

”All right. You think things over; we'll do the same and meet you here this evening to let you know what we've decided,” said Biggles, rising.

The stranger took a card from a gold case and handed it to the pilot with a little bow. ”

Thank you,” he said. ”I will await your pleasure,” and raising his hat he walked quickly away.

”Well, what do you think of him?” asked Biggles, when he was out of earshot.

”It's hard to say,” replied Algy. ”What nationality is he, do you think?”

”Goodness only knows. Eurasian, I imagine; possibly a Greek or Armenian Jew.” He looked at the card in his hand. ”Constantine Stampoulos,” he read aloud. ”Well, that's Greek enough, but I have a deep-rooted suspicion of the type, although he certainly looked affluent. He may be right about the Sheikh paying a good price for the pearls. All the lads along the Red Sea coast are enthusiastic collectors of pearls, I've been told. The best stuff from the Persian Gulf goes there, or to India, to say nothing of those they find themselves in the Red Sea. Let's get some lunch and talk it over.”

II.

Biggles leaned back in his seat and from five thousand feet surveyed the glorious panorama below with silent approval. He was heading south for Heliopolis, one hundred and twenty-five miles away, where he proposed to refuel before going to El Tuara, the oasis in which the Sheikh's palace was situated. Below lay the delta of the Nile, with its innumerable villages, stretching like an openwork lace design to the blue Mediterranean now far behind them. Ahead, clear-cut in the crystal atmosphere, were the minarets of the Citadel Mosque in Cairo, and the Mokattam Hills.

It was the morning following their meeting with Stampoulos. He had readily agreed to make the journey by air; in fact, he had forestalled Biggles by suggesting it, almost at once, when they had met in the evening as arranged. He had a.s.sured them it would be possible to land either on the waters of a bay near the palace or on the open sabkha, which extended for miles around it.

The airmen, after a brief consultation, confident of their ability to guard their own interests, had decided to make . the expedition. Details had been quickly arranged, with the result that the Greek was now seated in the cabin with Smyth, no doubt enjoying the wonderful vista below.

After a brief pause at Heliopolis to refuel, where Algy had changed places with Stampoulos in order that the Greek might guide the pilot to their destination, they were soon in the air again on a more easterly course, which would take them down the west coast of Arabia. The Red Sea soon lay below, and as the machine sped onwards Biggles eyed the arid desolation under his left wing with mixed feelings, wondering if they had been wise in accompanying a stranger to a spot so remote from civilization.

He derived some comfort from the activity on the sea, where, from time to time, tiny black destroyers ploughed long white furrows in the blue as they kept unceasing watch over the vital and coveted strip of water that terminated in the Suez Ca.n.a.l.

For more than three hours they flew along a barren coast, over deep wadis and rocky hills, behind which the desert, the dreaded, uncrossed Rub al Khali, rolled back until it merged into the purple haze of the far distance. Once or twice they saw the camels of an ancient caravanserai winding slowly northwards to the markets of Egypt over trails that were old when Moses led the Children of Israel out of the land of the Pharaohs.

Suddenly Stampoulos nudged the pilot and pointed with outstretched finger towards a grove of tall date-palms, in the centre of which stood a fort-like building crowned by two squat towers. It was nearly a mile from the end of a deep incision in the coastline, and as Biggles throttled back he pa.s.sed a critical eye over the surroundings.

Nevertheless, it was not until he was within a few hundred feet of the ground that he noticed a brown-painted dhow, moored close to the rocks, so perfectly did it blend with the background. He circled once over the palm-grove, and then, dropping his wheels, landed b.u.mpily on a large flat area of gravelly earth a short distance away.

”I will leave you to do what is necessary to the machine while I tell the Emir of our coming,” said Stampoulos, hurrying in the direction of the palace, which they now saw in the middle of a group of low Arab dwellings.

They taxied the machine into the shade of a palm, and, leaving Smyth in charge, followed the path taken by the Greek. They reached a pointed Moorish archway, around which loitered several Wahhabi Arabs, armed with long rifles and formidable curved knives. The Arabs stared at them sullenly as they pa.s.sed between them into a small courtyard, on the opposite side of which was the main entrance to the palace. It presented a rather squalid appearance and was hardly what they had expected.

The Sheikh, who broke off what seemed to be a heated conversation with Stampoulos when he saw them approaching, was waiting to receive them, and his manner and appearance were even less prepossessing than his palace. He was wearing a dirty white robe, over which was thrown a striped haik woven in a pattern of alternate black and red bars, fringed with curious cabalistic-like figures in the' corner.

Biggles found himself looking into a pair of dark challenging eyes set in a brown face. He sensed at once a hostile ,atmosphere which a forced smile did not allay, but in answer to the sheikh's ”Allah hadik” he bowed gravely and turned to the Greek expectantly.

”The Sheikh is anxious to start on a journey,” said Stampoulos energetically, ”so will you show him the pearls at once?

Biggles laid the pearls on a low table between them, and the Sheikh examined them greedily, muttering something to the Greek in a language the pilot did not understand.

”He says he will pay one thousand pounds for them,”

said Stampoulos.

”One thousand pounds!” cried Biggles incredulously.

”They are worth three times that sum in the open market.” Again the Greek spoke to the Sheikh.

”He says they are not a good colour; he will not pay more,” translated the Greek.

”Give me the; pearls,” said Biggles sternly; ”we are wasting our time.”

Stampoulos interpreted the message. The Sheikh picked up the bag, which Biggles had laid on the table, replaced the pearls, and handed it to him without a word.

”One moment before you go,” said Stampoulos quickly, as Biggles dropped the bag into his pocket after feeling it surrept.i.tiously to make sure the pearls were in it. ”I am sorry this deal has fallen through, but”-he shrugged his shoulders-”the Emir is not well disposed today. He is anxious to be off on his journey and he asks me if you will , consider taking him in your machine.”

”No, I will not,” replied Biggles shortly.

The Sheikh, who seemed to await his decision anxiously, appeared to understand he had replied in the negative and said something quickly to the Greek.

”He says he will pay you two hundred and fifty pounds if you will take him to Azir,” said Stampoulos.

”Where's that?”

”A small port on the opposite coast.”

For a moment Biggles was tempted to agree, for the offer was as munificent, the other was n.i.g.g.ardly, but his temper got the upper hand. ”No,” he almost snapped. ”Come on, we can just get back before dark.”

”No! I shall stay here now I am here” returned Stampoulos coolly.

”It looks to me as if you've had a cheap trip,” sneered Biggles, with a sudden suspicion darting into his mind. He turned on his heel and with a brief, 'Come on, Algy,” stalked furiously out of the palace, certain that in some way or other he had been exploited by the Greek. He climbed into his seat and took off without a word.

They had been in the air about twenty minutes when he relinquished control to Algy and took something from his pocket. The next instant he had s.n.a.t.c.hed the control-column from his partner's hand and was sideslipping steeply towards one of the many small islands that cl.u.s.ter along the coast, dropping on to the water on the lee side of one of them.

”Great Scott, what's wrong?” cried Algy in bewilderment, staring at Biggles's face, which had turned as white as chalk and out of which his eyes blazed like live coals.

”Wrong!” snarled Biggles. ”That crooked double-crossing dago has done us.”

”Done us! How?” exclaimed Algy aghast.

In answer Biggles held out his hand, on the palm of which rested two pearls. They were about the size of the pink pearls, but they were dull and lifeless. They were, in fact, ”

dead” pearls, such as are sometimes found in molluscs.

Algy's eyes narrowed. ”Heck! That was slick,” he breathed. ”What are we going to do?”

”Do? I'm going back,” said Biggles harshly. ”They're not getting away with that.”

”But we can't tackle that bunch of cut-throats single-handed. Hullo-what's all this--?”

<script>