CLEOPATRA'S PEARL

Wairarapa Times-Age, 9 April 1938, Page 12

CLEOPATRA'S PEARL

PUBLISHED BY SPECIAL ARRANGEMENT.

COPYRIGHT.

BY

STUART MARTIN.

Author of “Seven Men’s Sins,” “The Green Ghost,’ etc.

SYNOPSIS On a holiday cruise from England, MURIEL STACEY, daughter of a dealer in gems, is bound for Egypt. Accompanying her is JOHN ROBSON, her father’s most trusted assistant, who keeps Muriel such close company that ship’s gossip says he is very much in love with her. Also in the ship is FRED BURTON, son of a shipowner, learning his trade in the Purser’s department. Much attracted by Muriel, his curiosity is aroused by the fact that she and Robson ar constantly studying old Egyptian books. Burton also notices two rather queer passengers, MASON and FARVERY, who seem to be keeping an eye on Muriel and Robson. When Cairo is reached, Burton goes ashore in mufti to an hotel, into which, later, come Mason and Farvery. From their conversation Burton gathers that they are planning to “get” Robson and Cleopatra’s pearl. A place on the road to the Pyramids is mentioned. Knowing that Muriel and Robson intended to visit the Pyramids, Burton goes along the road, following Mason and Farvery. In a house he discovers Robson seriously wounded. He learns that Muriel has been taken off by two men in a car. t (Now read on). CHAPTER ll—Continued “I came by appointment. We made a bargain. I sold the pearl. As we exchanged the pearl for money the men came. The girl went to the door in answer to their konck. The men entered and shot Mr Robson, taking the pearl. Me they bound. That is all I know.” He began to feel nervously about his robes, and at last produced a slip of paper which he held up in triumph. “I still have it—the price of the pearl. The robbers would hot take his cheque.” He flourished it for Burton to see, but the latter hardly observed it. “Why should they take Miss Stacey?” he demanded. “Why kidnap her if they had the pearl?” “Ah, you do not understand. They searched Mr Robson, but it was not on his clothing. He pretended it was, so they shot him. But the girl had it. They were fighting with her for it when they heard a noise outside. So they gagged her and took her away. I saw it all from my chair. They blew out my lamp before they went; but they went hurriedly, bearing her with them.” “I made the noise they got scared of,” muttered Burton. “They must have heard me in the garden. Perhaps they guessed I was following them. If only I had remained at the gateway!” He seized the old dealer by the robe and almost dragged him across the hall to the room where John Robson still lay unconscious.

“Mustapha, or whatever your name is, you remain here and attend to this wounded man as best you can. I am going for the police. I may not come back with them, but when they come you can tell them what you’ve told me. Tell them that I am going to bring Miss Stacey back if I can. You understand?” “I will do as you say, sir. Who are you?” “Fred Burton. I come from the ship from which Miss Stacey came today. Tell the police that the names of the robbers are Mason and Farvery. You understand? The aged Turk nodded, but whether he understood or not was impossible to say. He was in a state of agonised trembling, but Burton had to trust to thing just then. Time was valuable. He dashed from the house and ran down the lane to where his taxi had been left. Here another surprise awaited him. The driver of the taxi was not to be seen. A door of the cab was open, however, and Burton was about to slam it shut when a voice greeted him from inside. “Help!” Burton peered inside. The ' driver was trussed like a fowl on the back seat; but he was not gagged. “It was two men who did it,” he wailed, as he was set free. “They came in a big tourer and tied me up, draining my petrol tank. They turned on the tap and left it running.” A pool of petrol lay below the engine, petrol and oil mixed, soaking into the ground. “They smashed a hole in the tank, too,” cried the chauffer. “I heard them do it. They told me they were doing. it. They used my own tools. There they are on the running board.” “Shut up! Did you notice if anybody else was in the touring car? Was there a girl in it?” “How do I know? Yes, I saw somebody in the back seat. It looked like a girl. It was a girl. One man was beside her before they got out and tied me up.” “So they knew I had followed them in your cab?” “They asked me who was my fare? How did I know? I told them we followed them from town. They would have shot me if I hadn’t told them. Are you going to chase them? You must chase them.”

“Which way did they go?” “There is only one way except the Cairo way. The way towards the Pyramids. A mere track. I am ruined. I am lost!”

“Shut up. Do as I tell you. Is there a garage near here?” “You expect miracles, you English. There is no garage. We are on the edge of the desert. lam ruined. lam lost."

“Is there anywhere I can get a car to follow the robbers?” “Then you will follow them. I urge you to follow them. I cannot, but you can. Yes, I know now! My friend David will help you. He has a farm over there, not far, and horses.” “Is there a telephone at this farm? Or anywhere near?” “How do I know. lam ruined. The criminals have gone to the old pyramids. I cannot leave my cab. What am I to do?” “Go and find a policeman and tell him about this. Tell him to go to Mobray Villa up the lane. Find a doctor also. Tell him to go to the villa, too. There has been robbery and attempted murder.’ “And who will pay for my ruined cab and lost petrol?” “The robbers will pay.” “Who will make them pay?” “I will. Are you going to find the police and the doctor?” The man ran off down the lane, wavign his arms and bewailing his loss. Burton followed the direction towards the farm, making his way across scrub and sand and ditches. It was heavy going, but, now the moon was up, he was able to make out the place after he had walked mile or so. There was a light in a window, behind a rag of curtain. Burton knocked on the dpor. Two people came, a man and a woman, and stared at him. “Are you David?” he asked the man. The man nodded, but seemed not to understand Burton was trying to tell him. It occurred to Burton that neither the man nor the woman could- understand English. But behind them, in the cobbled entrance he saw a telephone. He pushed his way past them and lifted the receiver. The man resented this, but Burton shoved him aside and jiggled the receiver hook. A voice at last asked him what he wanted. “Is that the exchange?” “What do you think it is, sir?” What do you want?” Burton told him quickly about what he had seen at the Villa Mobray. He asked the operator to get into touch with the police and a doctor. The operator promised to do so at once, and Burton hung up and turned to the farmer, who was glowering at him, while his wife kept up a babble of protest.

“Have you a car or a horse I can hire?” The word “horse” was all the man seemed to understand. He kept repeating it as if it were a word he knew, but he made no move to answer the question. When they were wrangling a figure came towards them across the yard. It was the taxi-driver. He was perspiring, but voluble. “I could not find a policeman, sir. I could not find a doctor. I came back to see if you had arrived here. I am glad you are here. David you give you a horse and a buggy.” “David” said Burton, “seems to be a fool or doesn’t know what I’m asking him” “That’s so. He knows only his own tongue. A little English too. Not much. A few words. 1 1 will talk to him.” He began to jabber in a dialect Burton could not follow. The farmer’s face brightened. He understood at last. He began to answer and to jabber also. At last the taxi-man turned to Bur•ton. “He says that you have telephoned somewhere. Is that so?” “I telephoned to the police. It is as well I did so, since you couldn’t find one and didn’t go far to find one. Am I to have a horse and buggy?” “Assuredly. David understands everything. He is a good tracker. He can read the desert as I read Cairo streets. He will guide to the robbers and the girl, sir. But he must be paid, sir. You will pay him.” Burton thrust a pound note into the farmer's open hand and the latter went across the yard and entered a stable. The taximan ran over to help, and Burton heard them jabbering away like twelve o’clock. They seemed to have forgotten the need for haste. The woman stood beside Burton, eyeing him furtively. “Watch out," she said in a low tone, and speaking with much labour to make her words intelligible. “You speak English?” he asked. “A leetle. Watch out.” “You mean the robbers? I’ll watch out. Hi, are you two coming with that buggy?” He left the woman and went to the stables. The talk ceased as he approached and the farmer began to saddle a big black horse. Burton saw a light buggy in a shed. He hauled it out by the shafts. i “Can’t you hurry?” he cried. “I was explaining to David.” said the taximan. “Is there no money for me who directed you here for the buggy?” “Arguing about the money, were you? You will get your reward later.” The horse was harnessed to the vehicle and David clambered in after Burton mounted. The taximan rubbed his hands gleefully, waving them adieu. “David is a rare tracker, sir. He knows the pyramids. He can drive blind, but doesn’t know English, sir.” They drove off, David chuckling and waving his whip. They were soon on a trail leading towards the Great Pyramid, a twisty trail. Burton was puzzled. There would be many visitors to the Great Pyramid. Every moonlit night sees tourists go, although they go by a different route from that he was going. But there, in front of the black horse, was the trail, still clear and obvious, the rutted marks of the touring car’s tyres. (To be continued.)