CLEOPATRA'S PEARL

Wairarapa Times-Age, 21 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.

CHAPTER VII (Continued). The holy man began tb walk up and down in front of the two prisoners. His lips moved as if he were muttering an incantation to himself; he seemed to be working himself into one of the wild paroxysms in which Dervishes indulge, his body began to sway gently from side to side. Presently he began to break into a chant, not loud, but with an unmusical up and down melody that might have been a lamentation. He went over to the brazier and stirred the smouldering leaves, and sat down facing the smoke, murmuring his chant in a mechanical way. Save for that murmur not a sound was to be heard in the cavern. Gradually the murmur died down and the holy man’s head sunk, forward on his chest. He seemed to be asleep. “What is he doing?” came Muriel’s voice, and Burton turned his head towards her. “He’s getting a vision. Don’t let that worry you. We may get out of here yet. “It looks pretty hopeless. Why did you mix yourself up in my affairs? I have brought you to all this.” “I brought myself, and I don’t regret it.” “Why aren’t the police doing something? You gave them information.” Burton did not answer that. He was thinking that the police were steeped in officialism and circumlocution and it took time before the machine began to work. Then it would be too late. He hadn’t much of an opinion of the police, especially now the desert lay between the city and the cavern. But he had hope, and he tried to keep her spirits up. We aren’t without a chance,” he said. “I was hoping I could get hold of some sort of weapon. If I could I might do something yet.” “And I have faith that these evil men can’t surely succeed,” she replied. “I have faith in you still. I always will.” “That’s nice of you. My hope and your faith seem to amount to very little, but you never know. I’ve been trying this chain behind my back. It seems to give a little.” “They hammered the big staple into the beam,” she said. “I heard them do it last night—or was it last night? I don’t know whether it is day or night now.”

“It will soon be day,” he replied. “It was night when I came in. Did you notice where they put the hammer they used?”

“It was flung down over there in a corner. I believe I see it. It is a big hammer, a sledge hammer.”

“I think I know the kind. It is used by the Tauregs to pound into dust the bones of the animals they kill. They burn the dust with the carib leaf. Some special virture they think. I don’t know their weird belief, not very well, but I remember hearing that. Now, if only I could get to that hammer!”

He tried again to get a purchase on the chain behind him. His fingers were working away at the staple, shoving a chain link through, then another, and so hoping to us the chain as a lever to twist the staple, or unseat it. He tugged at it and was now sure that the upright beam trembled.

A rain of sand and small pieces of rock fell from the roof. He looked up and saw that the upright beam was holding cross planks against the roof. There were cracks in the roof and it looked as if the shoring had been done hastily, and had remained in position for a long time. It. was the work of real engineers. What would happen if the beam was pulled away? That roof would come down, but if it came in a mass it would kill those below.

His study of the beams aloft came to an end when the holy man rose from his position before the brazier. 1 He glided across the cavern, bowedbacked; and did not straighten until he was in front of the two prisoners. Burton saw that the man’s eyes were closed; but he had the feeling that this holy man saw although he was still sleeping, or in a trance. His face came close to Muriel’s and his hands touched her dress. “Today,” he said softly, “you go to the sheik. He will be pleased with you. He has spoken to me. He tells me to bring you quickly. It shall be done.” Then he turned to Burton, but this time his hands were clasped on his chest. His eyes were quite closed. Yet he seemed to see. “You come from a ship,” he said smoothly, in his broken tongue. His speech was difficult to follow, being interspersed with words in a dialect Burton did not understand, but the meaning was there. “You come from a ship. I see it. A little man is eating breakfast. You call it so. He likes honey. You like honey.” Burton listened while the voice described the Chief Purser almost exactly It was true the Chief Purser was fond of honey, and that Burton and he always had it at breakfast. The voice went on, describing the ship. It was sailing away. But always the word “honey” kept cropping up. And then it came in its subtle meaning. “Before we go we give you honey.

You like it. We give you much honey. Ants like honey. We give you ants. My sheik tells me this is the punishment for warring against the Tauregs. Ants and honey.”

The holy man turned to Muriel noiselessly. The Taureg men who had been motionless, advanced also towards the captives. The holy man, his eyes still closed, faced the girl.

“You will be pleased to come with us. Your price is paid. Tell me you will come as a willing bride. When you say so, we will go. But not him. He is honey—and ants.” The closed eyes opened like slits. Through these slits he as looking straight into her eyes, holding them with a power that was tremendous because it was mental. Slowly, slowly, his eyes opened wider until he stared at her; and then she screamed.

“Don’t look at him!” cried Burton. “He is a holy man, holy and evil. He is trying to hypnotise you. If you. look at him he will do it. Take your eyes off his. Don’t look.

A Taureg hit Burton in the face; but the holy man never twitched an eyelid. He continued to gaze straight into Muriel’s face. He seemed like an Egyptian stone image just then, staring into space behind and through the girl’s eyes. “Shut your eyes!” cried Burton again. “Don’t let him overpower you. He is doing it so that you will be under his control.” “I know, I know,” she answered. “But even if I close my eyes it doesn’t matter. He is making me very weary, sleepy. I don’t want to obey him. Help me, help me!” “I’ll help you. Think of something else. Think of England. Think of your home. Think of the ship. Do you remember the ship? You sat at my table. We had grapefruit every morning. Do you smell the good cooking? . Ah!” The Taureg had hit him again, full in the face. Muriel shuddered, and opened her eyes. “What are they doing to you?” she cried. “Have they hurt you?” “Never mind. I’ll hurt them later. Don’t let that holy man hypnotise you.” The priest still stood looking straight into her face. She wanted to answer Burton but could not. Her tongue would not work. She felt herself sliding into a kind of trance. The holy man’s voice came to persuasively, softly, in a crooning tone. “You are coming with us. You want to come with the Taureg to be bride of the sheik.’ Burton groaned. The big savage was ready to hit him again, his hand poised, when Muriel’s voice answered the persistent questioning of the priest. “I will come: I will come.” The priest smiled and stepped back; then made a sign to the others. “She will sleep a little, then she will ask to come. My spirit holds her. Prepare for the journey. Prepare him for his journey when all is ready.” He slipped away noiselessly and disappeared into the gloom at the back of the cave. The Tauregs moved after him and Burton was left alone, except for the sleeping girl beside him and the form of Mason, who still lay on the floor. Burton listened attentively, glancing at Muriel now and then. He saw a strange thing happen. Her eyes, which had been closed, began to open. Her mouth formed a warning word. Her head came close to his. “I did it to save you,” she said. “I could not bear to see you struck. I pretended to sleep.” “I though it was quick work on his part,” he whispered back. “But they think you are asleep.” “But I mean to go with them,” she said, still in the tone hardly above a whisper. “I cannot see you hurt. If you escape you can bring the police to the Taureg country.” “You are not going to .the Taureg country, Muriel.” “What can stop me? Bend you head nearer. This will tell you something.” She kissed him, while the tears were hopping down her cheeks. “GoodAiye, dear,” she said. “Kiss me again,” he said. She kissed him, and saw that there was a gleam in his face that had not been there previously. “Now I'll tell you something,” he said. “Keep steady. I have got the leverage on the staple in this beam. I am turning the levering link. The staple is coming away. Steady!" A faint tearing of wood came from behind them. “It is here!” he whispered, and brought his hands round. In his fingers was the big staple. He bent down and laid it on the floor and stepped out of the chain that encircled him. “Now you, dear!” He got hei- free after a moment. “Over to the passage there, dear! Stand behind the half wall so they can't see you. That’s where I stood when I came in.” “What are you going to do?” He sped across the cavern and searched in a corner, emerging presently with a heavy hammer in his hand. It was a long-handled hammer with a bulb head on one side and a beak on the other. (To be Continued.)