Part 16 (1/2)
Raife winced, but his was not the nature to give in easily. In spite of his own personal knowledge of the doctor, and of Gilda, he loved the girl dearly, and love is blind--sometimes to the point of madness.
Herrion continued: ”I a.s.sure you, in confidence, that Doctor Malsano and Miss Tempest are liable to arrest at any moment. When I was in Nice, a short while ago, they had a plan for stealing the Baroness von Sa.s.sniltz's jewels. She was staying at the Hotel Royal, and so were they. In addition, this Apache-looking fellow, who fell in the river last night, was in their service for the purpose. He was employed as a messenger, and I had him removed. I had other work on and could not stay to protect the baroness's jewels. I did my best in the circ.u.mstances. The doctor caught sight of me in the hotel, and he, and his niece, disappeared at once.”
This was circ.u.mstantial enough, and, but for the obstinate strain in all young lovers, would have carried conviction. Raife remained obdurate, almost defiant, but the skilled observation of the famous detective noticed that he was wavering. With great dignity and deliberation he added: ”Sir Raife Remington, in your own interests, I beg of you to abandon this mad alliance. It is suicidal.”
Raife rose from his chair and walked slowly around the room. He mixed himself a whisky and soda, and drank the contents at a gulp. He crossed the room to Herrion, and, extending his hand, said:
”Herrion, you are right. I thank you heartily for your most disinterested action. I will abandon the whole accursed crew. They have blighted my life.”
The strong, stern, little man, relentless in the conviction of crime, unwavering in the performance of his duty, had saved a man's name--a family name. A whimsical smile spread over his countenance as he left the room.
Two days later Gilda Tempest received a letter from Raife. It was brief, and to the point. It stated that it was his duty not to be a.s.sociated with a man whom he was convinced was an unscrupulous criminal. He expressed regrets and bade farewell.
Gilda's wonderful, beautiful, and yet inscrutable face did not tell how much she suffered. Doctor Malsano was furious, and showed growing signs of weakness by allowing his pa.s.sion to get beyond control.
A few days after the foregoing events, Raife Remington, accompanied by Colonel Langton, was on his way to Egypt. Colonel Langton was a big-game shooter, and a club friend of some years standing. Their intention was to make for Khartoum and thence up the Blue Nile.
”The Nile-guarded city, the desert-bound city, The city of Gordon's doom.
The womanless city, cradleless city, The city of men--Khartoum.”
This was to be the goal of Raife Remington who had emerged from a great crisis, the crisis of a dangerous pa.s.sion for a woman. A pa.s.sion for a beautiful woman--but a woman whose very presence seemed to herald trouble. The big game was to be found beyond Meshrael Zerak, and he was to forget the loss of his love, with the companions.h.i.+p of his friend, Colonel Langton, among the mysterious and unfathomable Arabs of the desert.
Some men are destined, by nature, to live in an atmosphere of altered plans or broken hopes. Raife Remington's inheritance had, so far, been attended by both. Raife got to Khartoum, but he did not reach Meshrael Zerak; there were other plans for him. When he and Colonel Langton arrived at Khartoum, there remained much to be done before it was possible to get together the entire outfit necessary to a big-game shooting expedition. Colonel Langton's experience was essential to this part of the work, and Raife took the opportunity of seeing what there is of the fantastic life of the desert city of Khartoum. In the daytime the city slumbers, and when the stars or moon rise, there is life.
There are cafes in Khartoum, as well as poultry-farms, in this late land of the Mahdi and incredible horrors. Raife selected a seat at a cafe from which point of vantage to observe the pa.s.sers-by on the broad plank walk. He called for a bottle of Greek wine, an impossible concoction, less for his consumption than as a pa.s.sport or ticket for the use of the table and chair, and the enjoyment of the vantage point of observation.
There were many other tables at which men sat, for be it remembered that Khartoum is ”The womanless city, the cradleless city. The city of men.”
They were men of many nations, from Greece, Sicily, Roumania, and nomadic Semitics from no one knows where. The British conquerors govern there, as in so much of the east and south, not by weight of numbers, but by the inherited knowledge that he is pre-eminently the sahib, the acknowledged ruler in such quarters.
There was not much of comfort in the cafe of Raife's choice. The Greek wine was bad, the food he called for was worse. A couple of arc lights shed a flickering brilliance which revealed myriad insects of all sizes and shapes, and possessed of malignity in varying degree. They fell in shoals all over the place and created a sense of nausea. In spite of all this, overhead was the deep-blue vault of the unfathomable skies flecked by a million stars. The stolid, sulky silence of the dusky Arabs, in every variety of costumes, which include the turban, the tarboosh, loose, flapping drawers, and the coa.r.s.e woven jibba, added to a melancholy sense. If it were possible to supplement Raife's dejection, that was achieved by the snuffling dogs who sought garbage under chair and table, and a certain smell which belongs to much of the East.
Raife tired of the cafe, the plank walk, and his neighbours. He rose from the table, paid his _addition_ and sauntered away. He was pa.s.sing a narrow, evil-smelling street of the native quarter when he heard blows and cries. Raife, being unfamiliar with Oriental methods, sought a reason for the disturbance, imagining that a good row would cause a diversion and relieve the monotony of the last few hours. He proceeded down the street and discovered that there was a woman in Khartoum, and she was being beaten by a big, dusky Nubian. The woman seemed to look appealingly at Raife, and he, with all the proper, but, in the circ.u.mstances, unwise impulse of a normal man of the West, sailed in and hit that Nubian many blows with his useful fists. He should then have beaten a hasty retreat, but he did not. The result of this later indiscretion was that he received from somebody, from somewhere, a stab in the shoulder, which taught him some of the wisdom necessary in the Orient. He found his way back to his hotel, and the regimental surgeon, being sent for, treated the wound, which, though not very serious, would take a long time to heal in a place like Khartoum.
When Colonel Langton returned from purchasing water-bags, sacks, girths for camels, and many of the articles necessary for a well-equipped caravan, he discovered Raife bound up in bandages, and the regimental surgeon putting on the finis.h.i.+ng touches to a very neat job of surgery.
Having learnt the cause of things, the Colonel swore, in a characteristic fas.h.i.+on, at the prospect of his plans for big-game shooting being at least altered, if not indefinitely postponed.
The news of the occurrence spread, and a few of the officers called on Raife to learn about it. The story having been repeated several times, headed by Colonel Langton, the regimental surgeon and each visitor, in turn, talked interminable lectures on the folly of Raife's action.
Raife's pride, as well as his shoulder, was sorely hurt. He felt he had made an a.s.s of himself, and that these fellows, with their experience, were inwardly laughing at him. He cursed the fact that, for the second time, a woman had landed him in trouble.
His days at Khartoum were very miserable. His wound would not heal and he saw that he would be a drag on the expedition if he started. He decided to return to Cairo, and try and patch himself up there.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN.
THE MYSTERIOUS STAB IN THE DARK.
A few weeks after Raife's unfortunate interference in a Nubian's domestic affairs at Khartoum, he was reclining amid soft cus.h.i.+ons on the piazza of Shepheard's Hotel at Cairo.
There may be no women in Khartoum--at least, there was one, who, being in trouble herself, made trouble for Raife--but there are women at Cairo. Just what the attraction is, no one really knows. It is hot and dusty. There are flies, mosquitoes, and plenty of other irritating little things in Cairo. But Shepheard's Hotel is generally full of visitors, and there is a predominance of gaily and richly-dressed women.
They come from all countries and speak many languages. The language that one hears more than any is that of the United States of America.