by Sax Rohmer
“He, at least, had done his job. I replied.
“Perhaps my imitation was a poor one. All I know is that you, Greville, and others, came out into, wâdi with lanterns, and began to search all about the camp.”
“We did,” I interrupted. “That howling was unnatural. Dogs never came as near to the camp at such an hour.”
“You found nothing,” Nayland Smith went on; “and when all was quiet again, I crept round and rejoined Said. He had more news. As he had pulled across from Luxor to Kûrna, and in sight of the landing place, a motor-boat had passed, heading upstream. Note that, Weymouth. Standing in the bows was the Burman whom Said had seen near Sir Lionel’s camp!
“This set me thinking. I came back here and turned up some recent reports. I discovered, Weymouth, that a certain Sheikh Ismail — who once slipped through our fingers in London — was living in the Oasis of Khârga. This venerable gentleman, for he must be well past eighty, I believe to be the present holder of the title of Sheikh al-Jébal, or head of the murderous sect of the Hashishîn!”
“A member of the old group!” said Weymouth excitedly.
“Exactly! And an associate of Dr. Fu-Manchu! As a result, after a few hours’ rest, I started for Esna. And I spent a very profitable day there.”
“Esna!” I exclaimed. “Why Esna?”
“Because the old caravan road to the oasis starts from there, and because Esna is upstream. But whilst I was so employed, there’s little doubt, I think, that Fah Lo Suee and her party, operating from Lafleur’s Shaft, were completing the work begun by Barton…”
“Amazing,” I interrupted, “but fate, I suppose, that not a soul went down all day. The men, of course, were given a holiday.”
“I know,” Smith said. “Said was with me. However, I got back just before dusk and went straight to the camp to see how the land lay. Everything seemed to be quiet, and I was following the edge of the wâdi and had reached a point just above the hut in which Sir Lionel’s body lay, when I pulled up…
“It must have been inaudible from the tents. It came from directly below me — a soft, wailing cry. But I knew it! Good God, how well I knew it!…
“The call of a Dacoit!
“Over these dangerous madmen, Greville, as well as the Thugs and the Hashishîn, the late Dr. Fu-Manchu had acquired a mysterious control. I dropped flat on the ground, wriggled to the edge and looked down. Nothing moved — the place was dark and silent. But I continued to watch and presently I saw a seeming miracle.
“The door of the hut was open! I clenched my fists and stared. It was as though the gate of a tomb had opened. I did not know what to expect. But what I saw was this:
“A thickset brown man, naked except for his loincloth, came out, bending double in the manner of a laden Eastern porter, and carrying on his shoulders the body of Sir Lionel Barton wrapped in a gray blanket!
“On the threshold, he laid him down. He locked the door with a key he carried, shouldered the body again, and set off up the wâdi… How had he got into the hut and where had he obtained the key?”
“Weymouth has solved that mystery,” Petrie interrupted. “The key was on Sir Lionel’s chain. He had only partially undressed on the previous night, and the Dacoit must have slipped in between the time that the hut was open and the time that Sir Lionel was carried there.”
Nayland Smith tugged at his ear, a nervous mannerism which I had already observed, and turning to Weymouth:
“Congratulations!” he said. “What was your clue?”
“The man had been chewing betel nut. I found some…”
“Chunam! Brilliant, Weymouth! No school to equal that of experience. But do you grasp the astounding fact that he had stuck to his post for some twenty hours, with nothing but betel nut to sustain him! Yet he still had the strength of a tiger — as I was to learn!…
“I started to follow. By the smaller hut as you know, Greville” — turning to me— “there’s a steep path leading to the plateau: it begins as a sort of gully. And in the dense shadow there my Dacoit stopped.
“Need I say that I was searching madly for a proper course of action? What was the right course? Barton, if not dead, was palpably unconscious. What was the purpose of this mysterious body-snatching? Even if they knew that you, Petrie, had been sent for—”
“They did!” I interrupted. “I was followed to Cairo!”
“Even so, I argued, it must be as Barton himself had believed. Someone needed him — alive! My decision was made. I would not arouse the camp — my first, natural impulse — nor interfere in any way. I would follow and see where he was being taken.
“At which moment I nearly made a fatal mistake. I was on the point of moving from the deep belt of shadow in which I lay concealed, when a second soft call drew my gaze upward to where the path ceased to be a ravine and topped the slope above.
“Another Dacoit was descending, almost silently, but very swiftly.
“I shrank back.
“A low-toned conversation took place in the darkness beneath me; and then the pair raised the body of Sir Lionel and carried it rapidly up the slope and over the top.
“I gave them twenty seconds. I could risk no more. Then, fairly silent in my soft slippers, I raced up and threw myself prone on the crest… They were heading westward across the plateau.
“Naturally, I had made myself acquainted with the outstanding peculiarities of the district immediately surrounding Sir Lionel’s excavation; and in a flash, as I lay there, plainly visible in the moonlight should either of the Dacoits have looked back, the truth dawned upon me. I knew where they were making for.
“They were carrying him to Lafleur’s Shaft!”
“When at last, using what little cover I could find, I ventured to approach the entrance to the shaft — which, I discovered, is a long, sloping tunnel — the Dacoits were already far ahead of me. I could just see the moving light of a lantern.
“I stopped, lying flat by the entrance and looking down. What should I do next?
“For one moment the dreadful idea came to me that they were going to bury him — alive! I had it in mind to rush back to the camp for assistance, since I was single-handed and had no notion how many the enemy numbered.
“Wiser second thoughts prevailed. Sir Lionel lived. And they needed his knowledge…
“Of Lafleur’s Shaft I knew next to nothing. From what little I had gathered of its history, I understood that it was an abandoned cutting, terminating in a dead-end some forty feet below the level of the plateau.
“I waited — until I thought I might venture to descend the shaft to the first bend. It was hot and still — very still. No light showed ahead of me nor could I hear a sound. My sense of mystification increased. Where had they gone? What was their purpose?
“Risking everything, I flashed a light along the sloping path below me. I saw a rough tunnel terminating in another bend. I began to descend it. Sometimes my foot slipped and I stopped, listening… Not a sound. I descended still further. Lafleur’s Shaft, I learned, forms roughly a slanting figure Z. At last I came to a yawning pit. One fact my lamp revealed — the fact that a ladder rested in it. I stood in darkness, listening again.
“I could hear nothing.
“Using my lamp sparingly, I found my way to the head of the ladder and climbed down. On an irregular mass of stone at the base I paused. So far as my scanty information carried me, this was the end of Lafleur’s Shaft. It was empty!
“Where had the Dacoits gone?
“I knew, from experience of these wiry little Burmans, that they possessed a gorilla-like strength and that for one to have carried even so heavy a man as Sir Lionel Barton down the ladder slung across his shoulders was not an impossible task.
“But where had they gone?
“Cautious examination discovered a ragged gap in one wall of the pit, or well, in which I stood. I groped my way through and found myself in a slanting passage running, roughly, parallel with the tail of the Z of Lafleur’s Shaft, but hewn in the solid
rock and obviously of very early origin.
“Far below to my right, a vague light showed…
“I stood still again, listening.
“Voices… then a crashing, booming sound.
“I crept down the slope. I came to a second ladder, and looking up saw the stars. This was Barton’s excavation! A dim perception of the truth began to dawn on me. I stole down a little further. I lay flat in the passage — watching.
“In the light of several lanterns I saw a party of half-naked men working feverishly to break away through the wall! They worked under a woman’s direction! I heard her voice — an unforgettable, bell-like voice…”
“Madame Ingomar!” I shouted — my pent-up excitement at last expressing itself.
“Undoubtedly Fah Lo Suee. She was questioning Barton, who lay in the passage… and Barton was answering her!”
“Beyond doubt they had been at their task for hours. Barton, unwillingly — perhaps unwittingly — helped them to complete it. They forced the opening. They all went through — four men led by Fah Lo Suee. Sir Lionel was left where he lay.
“I began to move back to the ladders. I had them in a trap! Not daring to use a light, I groped my way to the foot of the pit. I climbed to the first platform. Now, using my torch, I went up to the second.
“Switching off the torch, I pressed myself against the side of the excavation.
“Three lanterns passed the gap below. I counted them. Their bearers were heading for Lafleur’s Shaft. There was an interval. Then, a fourth light shone out into the pit, it grew brighter.
“A woman, in native dress, looked up to where I crouched on the platform…
“She withdrew, and went on. I heard a vague shuffling — a distant voice. Silence came… Three men and one woman. Where was the fourth man — and Barton?
“The answer was all too obvious… Barton had served the purpose of Fah Lo Suee: his usefulness was ended. Whatever she had sought, she had found. And now I realized that my immediate duty was to Sir Lionel. I crept down again, rung by rung. And, just as I reached the jagged opening, an explanation of the mystery of the fourth man burst upon me with icy certainty…
“Already it might be too late! Barton had served the purpose for which he had been kept alive. Now, a dead man — not a synthetically dead man — he was to be replaced in the hut. This was the task of the Dacoit who had carried him to Lafleur’s Shaft, and who had remained behind to carry him back!
“A dim light shone through the newly made opening. I crawled nearer; so near that at last I could touch Sir Lionel’s body.
“The Dacoit came out, stooping and holding the lantern. He would have been an easy shot but I had decided against the use of firearms. The professional strangler never had a chance; because I’d got my thumb on his jugular and my knee between his lean thighs almost before he suspected I was there. I had little compunction; but these people are queerly constituted. This fellow had sinews like iron wire and the strength of a tiger. Yet, when I removed my grip and wondered how I should tie him up… he was dead!
“Perspiration blinded me and I was shaking with my exertions. I stood there, the fallen lantern at my feet, looking down at those two ghastly companions — the one indisputably dead; the other, for all his rigour and gray-white face, alive for all I knew to the contrary. Certainly, I had heard his voice not long since…
“Taking up the lantern, which had remained alight, I stooped and went in through the triangular opening which had been made in the wall… I found myself in the Tomb of the Black Ape!
“I need not describe it. The great sarcophagus was open — the wooden lid roughly in place, the stone one lying on the floor. I raised the sycamore covering. The mummy case was empty.
“Observing in a corner a cavern-like opening, I crossed and explored it. It proved to be a low antechamber. Into this I dragged the Dacoit so that he should be out of my sight. Then, I stood in the tomb, endeavouring to make up my mind what I should do about Barton.
“My brain was not at its best. But nevertheless I had to imagine what would happen when the Dacoit failed to report. Also, I had to take it for granted that my theory respecting his orders was correct; namely that his job was to carry Barton back to the hut, relock the door, and rejoin Fah Lo Suee wherever she might be.
“Suppose one of the enemy returned in my absence and found Barton where he lay? It was a dreadful possibility.
“First I thought of dragging him into the antechamber with the dead Dacoit. Then I realized that this would be useless. My second idea, wild though it sounds, was a good one. They would never think of looking in the sarcophagus!…
“The task was a heavy one. But I managed it. I replaced the lid, using some wedges which I found inside to prevent it closing entirely and to allow of air reaching the interior.
“I came out of Lafleur’s Shaft. I heard the sound of a descending plane! At first, I couldn’t believe my ears. Then came the explanation.
“And just as I grasped the fact that help for poor Barton — if he had not passed beyond its reach — was arrived, I heard a second sound… Said’s signal!
“Appreciating his state of anxiety — I had been missing for hours — I circled round the camp and joined him. He had heard the descent of the plane, of course, but he was even more urgently concerned about a party of three men and a woman, the men bearing heavy burdens, who at that very moment, I gathered, were setting out on camels for Kûrnal.
“I weighed the chances — and the stakes. I came to a speedy decision. Leaving Said on duty, I set out for a point on the Kûrna road — where Fletcher was posted…
“Needless to add, I failed to overtake Fah Lo Suee. Fletcher had noted the mysterious caravan, but naturally had not challenged it. I returned, and made my return known to Said…”
“You alarmed the whole camp!” I broke in. “We had learned to recognize that false dog’s howling!”
“Quite!” Nayland Smith smiled his rare, revealing smile. “But Said informed me that Rima Barton, who had been here, in Luxor, was back in camp with Ali Mahmoud and that you three fellows were with Forester in the big hut…
“Dead beat though I was, another job remained: to enable you to find Barton! I sent Said out scouting. The last thing I desired was to make a dramatic entrance that night. Said presently returned to report that you, Weymouth, and Greville had gone to the excavation with Ali Mahmoud.
“I ordered Said to creep down Lafleur’s Shaft and watch…
“He was back in less than seven minutes by my watch! He had met a woman coming out! He thought that she had not seen him. She had gone towards the Valley…
“My fatigue forgotten, I set out racing along the top of the wâdi—”
“Rima saw you!” I interrupted.
“Very likely. I observed that the door of the hut was open…
“A wild-goose chase! Madame had vanished! With characteristic cool courage she must have returned to find out what had become of her missing servant.
“When the news reached me that Barton lived, I was worse than dog-tired; I was exhausted. And that night I shared a humble shakedown with Said.”
“I dislike dividing our forces at this stage of the campaign,” said Nayland Smith, “but there’s nothing else for it. I had intended to send a message down, Petrie, if you hadn’t anticipated me. As a matter of fact” — he glanced at the table— “I was writing it when the manager rang me up. I can play my lone hand no longer.
“Fletcher must stay on guard. We can’t leave Sir Lionel unprotected. Rima, of course, must remain also. Indeed it would be useless to ask her to do otherwise. And I want you, Greville, to act as guide. It’s a pretty desperate expedition. But there’s a chance we may be able to strike quickly and strangle this dreadful business at the hour of its birth.”
“Just a moment, Sir Denis,” Weymouth interrupted. “Where do I come in?”
Smith turned to him, and:
“Glad to have you with me,” he replied, “although your a
ctual duty doesn’t call for it.”
“Thanks,” said Weymouth dryly.
Smith met Dr. Petrie’s fixed stare.
“Your leave starts next Thursday,” he said. “And I can imagine how Karamanèh is looking forward to seeing London again…”
There was a short silence, then:
“Is that all you have to say?” asked the doctor.
Nayland Smith grasped his shoulders impulsively.
“We stuck together pretty closely in the old days,” he said. “But, now, I daren’t ask you—”
“You don’t have to!” Petrie declared truculently. “I’m coming!”
“But where are we for?” I asked.
“For the house at present occupied by Fah Lo Suee.”
“What!” Petrie exclaimed. “Then where is this house?”
“Near the Oasis of Khârga — which accounts for Weymouth’s inability to trace it!”
“But Khârga’s surely a hundred and fifty miles!”
“There’s a sort of railway,” I said, “and a train about twice a year, from somewhere down Farshût way.”
“Not our route,” snapped Nayland Smith. “We’re going from Esna.”
“But that’s just a caravan road — and a bad one too. The chief and I went, once — he had an idea of working on the Temple of Hibis there — and I’m not likely to forget it! Sir Lionel loves camels — and so we went on camels. It took us three days to get to Khârga and three days to get back!”
“What I wanted to know! We’re going by car.”
“Gad! There are some nasty bits!”
“There may be. But if Fah Lo Suee can do it, we can do it! The only car I could beg, borrow, or steal was a hard-bitten Buick about six years old. But I’ve got it packed in a quiet spot. I completed arrangements this morning. You might glance over this map.”
From the table drawer he produced a large-scale map, when:
“What on earth are we going for?” Weymouth demanded.
“We’re going to spy! Tonight, I have reason to believe, the powers of hell will be assembled in el-Khârga.”
I went along to the room occupied by the chief, quietly opened the door, and looked in. He lay as I had last seen him, haggard, and pale under his tan. But his expression remained untroubled, and his strong, bronzed hands, crossed, rested quietly on the sheet.
