CLEOPATRA'S PEARL

Wairarapa Times-Age, 20 April 1938, Page 10

CLEOPATRA'S PEARL

PUBLISHED BY SPECIAL ARRANGEMENT. COPYRIGHT.

BY

STUART MARTIN.

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

CHAPTER VI (Continued).

“Your jaw is still swollen where he hit you,” she said sweetly; and that was more than Mason could! stand. He bellowed out an order with a torrent of oaths. “Chain her up, you! She goes with you tomorrow to the Taureg village.” More shuffling of feet, a few protests from Muriel, and the place was quiet again. Somebody took away the lantern and Burton saw the moving figures beyond the columns in the dim light. Then darkness and quietness. Burton gritted his teeth. He had found her at last. True, she seemed as much lost as found, but he was not finished yet. He meant to get her out of that hole if it was humanly possible. He slipped along the wall and turned into the small hall in which the talking had taken place. He peered into the darkness. The place was bare and smelled of the carib leaf and dry earth. He moved cautiously towards the exit behind the pillars, feeling his way. The corridor on the other side of the pillars was wide and seemed endless. There were dark passages leading off to right and left. The smell of the burning leaf grew stronger. His hands, spread on the rough wall, encountered a panel of wood, then another panel, then a third. A wooden wall had been erected in this tomb. He felt along'for the door; but there was no door. He. listened and heard a sound on the other side of the woodwork. It was the sound of someone sobbing. A woman. Muriel’s voice. She was crying in there and he could not get to her! The sound tortured him. He put his lips to the wood and tried to whisper her name. “Muriel! Muriel!” The sobbing ceased. He sensed that she was listening, that she had heard his whisper. “Muriel!” he breathed. But there was no answer. Perhaps she hadn’t heard after all. But the sobbing had ceased. He felt all round the panels, down to the bottom of the wall where the wood ws flush with the floor. Not a doorhandle there. He dug his nails into the panels and pushed and pulled. Something moved; Glory! He had solved the secret of that wall. It was composed of sliding .doors! He bent to the job, breathing quickly and nervously. He murmured to himself as he had heard the bosun shout on board ship. “Heave! Heave handsomely! Heave and start her!”

The panel started, moving sideways without a sound. It ran so smoothly, if heavily, that he knew it must be on oiled rollers. Gradually it slid away, and he found himself looking into a great cavern that was in a strange twilight. The first thing he saw was a smoking brazier in a corner, and from it came the pungent smell of that horrible carib leaf. He peered this way and that. He saw the roof was supported by two upright beams that held other crossbeams along the roof. There v/ere excavators’ diggings, but he caught something else in the rapid glance into that cavern.

There was a figure there in the centre of the cave, a figure that was standing beside one of the upright beams. He thought this was an Arab’s figure at first, and he stood ready for the attack. But the figure never moved. Was it a figure at all? Everything was as silent as death, there was the dampness of death in the air. He heard the sob again. “Muriel,” he called huskily. To his surprise the figure in the centre of the cave stirred. He voice came fearfully. “Yes. Who is it?” “I am here!” He was in the cavern now and ran to the upright, holding out his hands to her. They looked into each other’s faces in the gloom, and he heard her stifle a cry of recognition. “You! I though you were an Arab! Those clothes!” “Come! Let’s get out of here!” He put out his hand to grasp hers. She never moved. She was dishevelled, but still in the same clothes that suited her on board the ship, and even on the camel. Her hair was all rumpled and unkempt, her face drawn with

suffering. The yellow jumper and black and white skirt were dirty. That yellow jumper! , How he had admired it! There were two big tassels at the neck, lying on her breasts as he had often seen them. “I am chained to this post,” she said simply. Not only chained, he found, but the chain was padlocked to a heavy staple in the upright beam. He tried to break or bend the padlock, but it was useless, the hasp was too strong. “Be careful,” she whispered. “The Tauregs are about.” “Oh, for a key, or a pair of pliers! Anything. A tommy-bar to twist this staple out! I’ll ferret around for something.” “Be careful. They’ll kill you. Why did you come here?” “Why did I not come sooner! Muriel, my dear, I’ll save you yet. I’ll kill some of them before they kill me. Is the Arab woman with them?” “There are two women now. I am chained here because the Tauregs said you had escaped and I must be kept. They seem to over-rule Mason. They quarrel with him. The Tauregs have a key to this padlock What are you doing?” He was moving to and fro, looking for an implement. He wanted something to break the chain or the padlock. Near the brazier he came upon a piece of wood, a stout piece about a foot long. It had been the handle of a shovel or pick. He was in the act of lifting it when Muriel cried out in alarm. “The Tauregs! Look out, Fred!” They had come like snakes, noiselessly, unseen in the gloom until they were upon him. The first man to grapple received a blow with the bit of wood that shattered it; but it sent the attacker down with a thud. He saw faces rise up on every side. Muriel was blotted out in the avalanche of forms that came up against him. A hand grabbed at his throat. He smashed his fist into the face beyond the hand and heard a groan. Hands were about him everywhere. His robe was torn off, the brazier was overturned! He bit and punched at everything that came in his way. But they struck back from unexpected quarters. They were before him and behind him and on every side. . They did not shout; they were out to master and to kill. His right arm was seized by somebody who wrenched it so that he felt the sinews tear. Others held him and pounded him and bore him down. He felt the bone of his right shoulder give way and a faintness came over him. He slipped and went down under them, with hands tearing at him like wolves. When they had him helpless voices broke out, gabbling and exclaiming. The lantern was brought. Mason came stumping hastily. A Taureg held the lantern high; every eye was on his face. “What’s this?” cried Mason. “An Arab traitor? Oh, Lordy! Me old college pal come back.” He raised his hand and struck Burton full in the face. “Tie him up beside the gal,” he cried. “You can have your will of him. She’ll talk now, before she goes to be a wife in a harem. Bring the holy man who lost his robes. He’ll know how to handle both.” Burton could not return that blow. His arms were held. But his feet were free. He launched them both out with all his force. They caught Mason in the middle; he doubled up like a halfshut knife and went down—and stayed there. CHAPTER VII. The force of Burton's double kick brought the Tauregs who held him down also. He felt an excruciating pain in his shoulder and recollected having been told that Tauregs can put out a man’s collar-bone with a twist. And then the pain went out of his shoulder. They hove him up and slammed him against the pillar beside Muriel. Their act had put his collar-bone back into place again. Things seemed to swim about him in the cavern. He would have fallen had his attackers not propped him up while they fastened a chain about his waist and tied his ankles. A terrible thirst made his throat and mouth very dry, and he was fast swooning when water was slashed into his face. That brought him back to what was going on around him. He saw right in front of him one of the most terrible faces he had ever cast eyes upon. It was the face of the holy man whose garments he had stolen, and there was a strange light of satisfaction in the holy man's eyes. The man continued to smile with a weird exultation as he turned and issued an order to one of the Tauregs. The latter attended to the brazier, heaped more leaf on it and set it glowing. The others stood back and waited. While this was taking place nobody took the slightest interest in Mason, who lay where he had fallen, his arms spread wide and his face half up-turn-ed, like a boxer who has been knocked out. (To be Continued.)