The Tracer of Lost Persons

by Robert W. Chambers

  CHAPTER XVIII

  "When I left the Point I was assigned to the colored cavalry. They aregood men; we went up Kettle Hill together. Then came the Philippinetroubles, then that Chinese affair. Then I did staff duty, and could notstand the inactivity and resigned. They had no use for me in Manchuria;I tired of waiting, and went to Venezuela. The prospects for servicethere were absurd; I heard of the Moorish troubles and went to Morocco.Others of my sort swarmed there; matters dragged and dragged, and theKaiser never meant business, anyway.

  "Being independent, and my means permitting me, I got some shooting inthe back country. This all degenerated into the merest nomadicwandering--nothing but sand, camels, ruins, tents, white walls, and blueskies. And at last I came to the town of Sa-el-Hagar."

  His voice died out; his restless, haunted eyes became fixed.

  "Sa-el-Hagar, once ancient Sais," repeated the Tracer quietly; and theyoung man looked at him.

  "You know _that_?"

  "Yes," said the Tracer.

  For a while Burke remained silent, preoccupied, then, resting his chinon his hand and speaking in a curiously monotonous voice, as thoughrepeating to himself by rote, he went on:

  "The town is on the heights--have you a pencil? Thank you. Here is thetown of Sa-el-Hagar, here are the ruins, here is the wall, and somewherehereabouts should be the buried temple of Neith, which nobody hasfound." He shifted his pencil. "Here is the lake of Sais; here, standingall alone on the plain, are those great monolithic pillars stretchingaway into perspective--four hundred of them in all--a hundred and ninestill upright. There were one hundred and ten when I arrived at El TebWells."

  He looked across at the Tracer, repeating: "One hundred and ten--when Iarrived. One fell the first night--a distant pillar far away on thehorizon. Four thousand years had it stood there. And it fell--the firstnight of my arrival. I heard it; the nights are cold at El Teb Wells,and I was lying awake, all a-shiver, counting the stars to make mesleep. And very, very far away in the desert I heard and felt the shockof its fall--the fall of forty centuries under the Egyptian stars."

  His eyes grew dreamy; a slight glow had stained his face.

  "Did you ever halt suddenly in the Northern forests, listening, asthough a distant voice had hailed you? Then you understand why that far,dull sound from the dark horizon brought me to my feet, bewildered,listening, as though my own name had been spoken.

  "I heard the wind in the tents and the stir of camels; I heard the reedswhispering on Sais Lake and the yap-yap of a shivering jackal; andalways, always, the hushed echo in my ears of my own name called acrossthe star-lit waste.

  "At dawn I had forgotten. An Arab told me that a pillar had fallen; itwas all the same to me, to him, to the others, too. The sun came outhot. I like heat. My men sprawled in the tents; some watered, some wentup to the town to gossip in the bazaar. I mounted and cast bridle onneck--you see how much I cared where I went! In two hours we hadcompleted a circle--like a ruddy hawk above El Teb. And my horse haltedbeside the fallen pillar."

  As he spoke his language had become very simple, very direct, almostwithout accent, and he spoke slowly, picking his way with that lack ofinflection, of emotion characteristic of a child reading a new reader.

  "The column had fallen from its base, eastward, and with its base it hadupheaved another buried base, laying bare a sort of cellar and a flightof stone steps descending into darkness.

  "Into this excavation the sand was still running in tiny rivulets.Listening, I could hear it pattering far, far down into the shadows.

  "Sitting there in the saddle, the thing explained itself as I looked.The fallen pillar had been built upon older ruins; all Egypt is thatway, ruin founded on the ruin of ruins--like human hopes.

  "The stone steps, descending into the shadow of remote ages, invited me.I dismounted, walked to the edge of the excavation, and, kneeling,peered downward. And I saw a wall and the lotus-carved rim of a vaststone-framed pool; and as I looked I heard the tinkle of water. For thepillar, falling, had unbottled the ancient spring, and now thestone-framed lagoon was slowly filling after its drought of centuries.

  "There was light enough to see by, but, not knowing how far I mightpenetrate, I returned to my horse, pocketed matches and candles fromthe saddlebags, and, returning, started straight down the steps ofstone.

  "Fountain, wall, lagoon, steps, terraces half buried--all showed whatthe place had been: a water garden of ancient Egypt--probablyroyal--because, although I am not able to decipher hieroglyphics, I haveheard somewhere that these picture inscriptions, when inclosed in acartouch like this"--he drew rapidly--

  Glyph]

  "or this

  Glyph]

  indicate that the subject of the inscription was once a king.

  "And on every wall, every column, I saw the insignia of ancient royalty,and I saw strange hawk-headed figures bearing symbols engraved onstone--beasts, birds, fishes, unknown signs and symbols; and everywherethe lotus carved in stone--the bud, the blossom half-inclosed, theperfect flower."

  His dreamy eyes met the gaze of the Tracer, unseeing; he rested hissunburned face between both palms, speaking in the same vague monotone:

  "Everywhere dust, ashes, decay, the death of life, the utterannihilation of the living--save only the sparkle of reborn watersslowly covering the baked bed of the stone-edged pool--strange, luminouswater, lacking the vital sky tint, enameled with a film of dust, yet,for all that, quickening with imprisoned brilliancy like an opal.

  "The slow filling of the pool fascinated me; I stood I know not how longwatching the thin film of water spreading away into the dimness beyond.At last I turned and passed curiously along the wall where, at its base,mounds of dust marked what may have been trees. Into these I probed withmy riding crop, but discovered nothing except the depths of the dust.

  "When I had penetrated the ghost of this ancient garden for a thousandyards the light from the opening was no longer of any service. I lighteda candle; and its yellow rays fell upon a square portal into which ledanother flight of steps. And I went down.

  "There were eighteen steps descending into a square stone room. Strangegleams and glimmers from wall and ceiling flashed dimly in my eyes underthe wavering flame of the candle. Then the flame grew still--still asdeath--and Death lay at my feet--there on the stone floor--a man, squareshouldered, hairless, the cobwebs of his tunic mantling him, lying facedownward, arms outflung.

  "After a moment I stooped and touched him, and the entire prostratefigure dissolved into dust where it lay, leaving at my feet a shadowshape in thin silhouette against the pavement--merely a gray layer offinest dust shaped like a man, a tracery of impalpable powder on thestones.

  "Upward and around me I passed the burning candle; vast figures in blueand red and gold grew out of the darkness; the painted walls sparkled;the shadows that had slept through all those centuries trembled andshrank away into distant corners.

  "And then--and then I saw the gold edges of her sandals sparkle in thedarkness, and the clasped girdle of virgin gold around her slender waistglimmered like purest flame!"

  Burke, leaning far across the table, interlocked hands tightening,stared and stared into space. A smile edged his mouth; his voice grewwonderfully gentle:

  "Why, she was scarcely eighteen--this child--there so motionless, solifelike, with the sandals edging her little upturned feet, and thesmall hands of her folded between the breasts. It was as though shehad just stretched herself out there--scarcely sound asleep as yet, andher thick, silky hair--cut as they cut children's hair in these days,you know--cradled her head and cheeks.

  "'As though . . . scarcely sound asleep as yet.'"]

  "So marvelous the mimicry of life, so absolute the deception ofbreathing sleep, that I scarce dared move, fearing to awaken her.

  "When I did move I forgot the dusty shape of the dead at my feet, andleft, full across his neck, the imprint of a spurred riding boot. Itgave me my first shudder; I turned, feeling beneath my foot the soft,yielding powder
, and stood aghast. Then--it is absurd!--but I felt as aman feels who has trodden inadvertently upon another's foot--and in animpulse of reparation I stooped hastily and attempted to smooth out themortal dust which bore the imprint of my heel. But the fine powderflaked my glove, and, looking about for something to compose the asheswith, I picked up a papyrus scroll. Perhaps he himself had written onit; nobody can ever know, and I used it as a sort of hoe to scrape himtogether and smooth him out on the stones."

  The young man drew a yellowish roll of paper-like substance from hispocket and laid it on the table.

  "This is the same papyrus," he said. "I had forgotten that I carried itaway with me until I found it in my shooting coat while packing to sailfor New York."

  The Tracer of Lost Persons reached over and picked up the scroll. It wasflexible still, but brittle; he opened it with great care, consideredthe strange figures upon it for a while, then turned almost sharply onhis visitor.

  "Go on," he said.

  And Burke went on:

  "The candle was burning low; I lighted two more, placing them at herhead and feet on the edges of the stone couch. Then, lighting a thirdcandle, I stood beside the couch and looked down at the dead girl underher veil-like robe, set with golden stars."

  He passed his hand wearily over his hair and forehead.

  "I do not know what the accepted meaning of beauty may be if it was notthere under my eyes. Flawless as palest amber ivory and rose, thesmooth-flowing contours melted into exquisite symmetry; lashes likedarkest velvet rested on the pure curve of the cheeks; the closed lids,the mouth still faintly stained with color, the delicate nose, the full,childish lips, sensitive, sweet, resting softly upon each other--ifthese were not all parts of but one lovely miracle, then there is nobeauty save in a dream of Paradise. . . .

  "A gold band of linked scarabs bound her short, thick hair straightacross the forehead; thin scales of gold fell from a necklace, clothingher breasts in brilliant discolored metal, through which ivory-tintedskin showed. A belt of pure, soft gold clasped her body at the waist;gold-edged sandals clung to her little feet.

  "At first, when the stunned surprise had subsided, I thought that I waslooking upon some miracle of ancient embalming, hitherto unknown. Yet,in the smooth skin there was no slit to prove it, no opening in any veinor artery, no mutilation of this sculptured masterpiece of the MostHigh, no cerements, no bandages, no gilded carven case with painted faceto stare open eyed through the wailing cycles.

  "This was the image of sleep--of life unconscious--not of death. Yet iswas death--death that had come upon her centuries and centuries ago; forthe gold had turned iridescent and magnificently discolored; the sandalstraps fell into dust as I bent above them, leaving the sandals clingingto her feet only by the wired silver core of the thongs. And, as Itouched it fearfully, the veil-like garment covering her, vanished intothin air, its metal stars twinkling in a shower around her on the stonefloor."

  The Tracer, motionless, intent, scarcely breathed; the younger man movedrestlessly in his chair, the dazed light in his eyes clearing to sullenconsciousness.

  "What more is there to tell?" he said. "And to what purpose? All this istime wasted. I have my work cut out for me. What more is there to tell?"

  "What you have left untold," said the Tracer, with the slightest ring ofauthority in his quiet voice.

  And, as though he had added "Obey!" the younger man sank back in hischair, his hands contracting nervously.

  "I went back to El Teb," he said; "I walked like a dreaming man. Mysleep was haunted by her beauty; night after night, when at last I fellasleep, instantly I saw her face, and her dark eyes opening into mine inchildish bewilderment; day after day I rode out to the fallen pillar anddescended to that dark chamber where she lay alone. Then there came atime when I could not endure the thought of her lying there alone. I hadnever dared to touch her. Horror of what might happen had held me alooflest she crumble at my touch to that awful powder which I had troddenon.

  "I did not know what to do; my Arabs had begun to whisper amongthemselves, suspicious of my absences, impatient to break camp, perhaps,and roam on once more. Perhaps they believed I had discovered treasuresomewhere; I am not sure. At any rate, dread of their following me,determination to take my dead away with me, drove me into action; andthat day when I reached her silent chamber I lighted my candle, and,leaning above her for one last look, I touched her shoulder with myfinger tip.

  "It was a strange sensation. Prepared for a dreadful dissolution,utterly unprepared for cool, yielding flesh, I almost dropped where Istood. For her body was neither cold nor warm, neither dust-dry normoist; neither the skin of the living nor the dead. It was firm, almoststiff, yet not absolutely without a certain hint of flexibility.

  "The appalling wonder of it consumed me; fear, incredulity, terror,apathy succeeded each other; then slowly a fierce shrinking happinessswept me in every fiber.

  "This marvelous death, this triumph of beauty over death, was mine.Never again should she lie here alone through the solitudes of night andday; never again should the dignity of Death lack the tribute demandedof Life. Here was the appointed watcher--I, who had found her alone inthe wastes of the world--all alone on the outermost edges of theworld--a child, dead and unguarded. And standing there beside her I knewthat I should never love again."

  He straightened up, stretching out his arm: "I did not intend to carryher away to what is known as Christian burial. How could I consign herto darkness again, with all its dreadful mockery of marble, all itsawful emblems?

  "This lovely stranger was to be my guest forever. The living should benear her while she slept so sweetly her slumber through the centuries;she should have warmth, and soft hangings and sunlight and flowers; andher unconscious ears should be filled with the pleasant stir of livingthings. . . . I have a house in the country, a very old house amongmeadows and young woodlands. And I--I had dreamed of giving this child ahome--"

  His voice broke; he buried his head in his hands a moment; but when helifted it again his features were hard as steel.

  "There was already talk in the bazaar about me. I was probably followed,but I did not know it. Then one of my men disappeared. For a week Ihesitated to trust my Arabs; but there was no other way. I told themthere was a mummy which I desired to carry to some port and smuggle outof the country without consulting the Government. I knew perfectly wellthat the Government would never forego its claim to such a relic ofEgyptian antiquity. I offered my men too much, perhaps. I don't know.They hesitated for a week, trying by every artifice to see the treasure,but I never let them out of my sight.

  "Then one day two white men came into camp; and with them came agovernment escort to arrest me for looting an Egyptian tomb. The whitemen were Joram Smiles and that Eurasian, Emanuel Gandon, who was partlywhite, I suppose. I didn't comprehend what they were up to at first.They escorted me forty miles to confront the official at Shen-Bak. When,after a stormy week, I was permitted to return to Sais, my Arabs and thewhite men were gone. And the stone chamber under the water garden wallwas empty as the hand I hold out to you!"

  He opened his palm and rose, his narrowing eyes clear and dangerous.

  "At the bazaar I learned enough to know what had been done. I traced thewhite men to the coast. They sailed on the _Scythian Queen_, takingwith them all that I care for on earth or in heaven! And you ask me whyI measure their distance from me by a bullet's flight!"

  The Tracer also rose, pale and grave.

  "Wait!" he said. "There are other things to be done before you prepareto face a jury for double murder."

  "It is for them to choose," said Burke. "They shall have the choice ofreturning to me my dead, or of going to hell full of lead."

  "_Ex_actly, my dear sir. That part is not difficult," said the Tracerquietly. "There will be no occasion for violence, I assure you. Kindlyleave such details to me. I know what is to be done. You are outwardlyvery calm, Mr. Burke--even dangerously placid; but though you maintainan admirable command over your
self superficially, you are laboring underterrible excitement. Therefore it is my duty to say to you at once thatthere is no cause for your excitement, no cause for your apprehension asto results. I feel exceedingly confident that you will, in due time,regain possession of all that you care for most--quietly, quietly, mydear sir! You are not yet ready to meet these men, nor am I ready to gowith you. I beg you to continue your habit of self-command for alittle while. There is no haste--that is to say, there is every reasonto make haste slowly. And the quickest method is to seat yourself. Thankyou. And I shall sit here beside you and spread out this papyrus scrollfor your inspection."

  Hieroglyphics]

  Burke stared at the Tracer, then at the scroll.

  "What has that inscription to do with the matter in hand?" he demandedimpatiently.

  "I leave you to judge," said the Tracer. A dull tint of excitementflushed his lean cheeks; he twisted his gray mustache and bent over theunrolled scroll which was now held flat by weights at the four corners.

  "Can you understand any of these symbols, Mr. Burke?" he asked.

  "No."

  "Curious," mused the Tracer. "Do you know it was fortunate that you putthis bit of papyrus in the pocket of your shooting coat--so fortunatethat, in a way, it approaches the miraculous?"

  "What do you mean? Is there anything in that scroll bearing on thismatter?"

  "Yes."

  "And you can read it? Are you versed in such learning, Mr. Keen?"

  "I am an Egyptologist--among other details," said the Tracer calmly.

  The young man gazed at him, astonished. The Tracer of Lost Personspicked up a pencil, laid a sheet of paper on the table beside thepapyrus, and slowly began to copy the first symbol:

  Glyph]