CLEOPATRA'S PEARL

Wairarapa Times-Age, 22 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 VII (Continued). “It was under a heap of leaves,” he said. “Thats’ why I didn’t see it before.” “Out into the passage!” he called a moment later. “Run!” But she didn’t run. She was about to pass the figure of Mason when she stopped, tugging with her foot. “It's Mason!” she cried. “He has me by the ankle!” “Tauregs!” came Mason’s yell. “Tauregs! come!” The alarm was strangled in his throat. Burton was upon him, smashing at him furiously. Mason let go his hold of the girl and kicked at Burton. The kick never landed, for Burton heard moving feet far in the interior and voices calling. He leaped off Mason, grabbed his hammer and dashed back into the cavern. “Run!” he cried to Muriel. “Run for your life!” He heard her feet pattering on the stone. In a daze he heard that sound mingled with others. His mind was bent on something else. He reached the pillar of wood and swung his hammer in a long side stroke. The blow thundered through the cave dully. The beam shivered. Fragments of the roof fell about him. Another stroke and the beam slipped an inch or two out of the perpendicular. Stones fell on him. He saw the Tauregs on the other side of the row of pillars. They were within a dozen yards of him, running, shouting, gesticulating. One more blow and the beam moved again. He could not wait now or they would be upon him.

He stooped and caught at the chain that had bound him and Muriel. He slung one end round the base of the beam, caught it at the other side, seized both ends and leaped towards the passage'. It was a longer chain than he had thought; but the loop held round the beam.

Now he pulled with all his strength, with that extra effort that is just beyond a mans’ utmost strength, that ounce that tells in a crisis.

The Tauregs were by the beam when it came away.

The foot of it gave suddenly, sliding along the ground, bumping here and there, cracking up aloft, tearing down the other cross beams that held the roof.

Down among the Tauregs the solid support fell, and with it came the planks that had held the roof up, and most of the roof too.

It was like an explosion, the thunder of it in that confined space. Tons of rock and earth dropped, felling the Tauregs, pinning some to the earth, burying others, maiming and frightening those who were not struck.

The dust that arose was like a curtain, a thick cloud that blotted out everything. Burton was blinded, hit by stones, defeaned by the uproar. But he was free of the debris; but ,only free. A foot less of that chain would have meant he too was under the fall.

He began to grope his way to the passage. He stumbled against a man and heard Mason’s voice shouting in his ears. They grappled together, but Burton was no match for Mason just then. He was exhausted, his heart had almost burst with that pull, that Samson-like effort. But he clung to Mason as a boxer clings to regain his breath.

They staggered towards the passage, hugging each other. Burton felt Mason’s revolver against his ribs. This was the end, he thought. But Muriel had escaped. He was glad of that. Mason’s revolver was not fired. Mason was torn from his grasp suddenly and violently. Voices shouted in Burton’s ears. Men were trampling past him in the thinning cloud of dust. Muriel’s voice was close to him, calling his name, calling his name constantly. Arms were round him and lights too, strange lights that were not lanterns but flashlamps. Electric torches. They blinded him as much as the dust. Burton found himself thrust aside. He was in a regular riot. But these were not Tauregs who supported him against the wall of the passage. A voice rang out. “Fire if they do not surrender! Wait till the dust clears!” Burton heard Muriel’s voice calling his name. “Here!” he answered. "Here, Muriel!” She appeared from among the figures, and was in his arms in a moment. “The police! They’ve come!” Her lips were close to his cheek. “The police!” he stammered. “They were coming along the path when I ran out,” she explained. “I ran into them. Mr Robson was there, and a detective called Ben. It was Ben who led them. He is in charge. Are you hurt, dear?” “Less than I expected,” he answered. “I can’t understand all this. The police! And I didn’t think much of them.” They heard no more talking for the sharp word of command rang out from the cavern. "Surrender!” The dust was clearing rapidly, drifting out or settling. Burton saw in

front of him a body of men whose backs were towards him. All were in police uniform, and he knew by the position of their arms that each man held a weapon. A growl came along the passage. Mason was held by two others, grim and tall. One of the two bent down, clapped Mason’s wrists together and there was a snap of metal. He was handcuffed. A figure came from the cavern clad in Arab dress. “Mr Robson?” it called. “Yes Ben!” “We’ve got them all, sir. We will take them all with us when we sort them out. Some are damaged by the fall of rock from the roof. The heart is out of them. Have you found your friend?” A figure pushed his way towards Burton, a figure also clad in Arab clothes. He held out his hand to Burton. “Boy, how can I thank you? Muriel has told us something of what you did.” ‘Mr Robson!” “I’ve found my friend, Ben!” called Robson loudly, with a break in his voice. “Then take him into the daylight, sir. We’ll clean up in here.” The three, Robson, Burton and Muriel, stumbled out along the passage into the open. The sun was shining, the Valley of the Tombs was bathed in the glorious warmth of early’ day. “Let’s sit here,” Burton exclaimed. “I can’t walk much farther. Let’s all sit here and explain things. I’m very confused.” They sat down on the steps that led up to the underground chambers. “It is easily explained,” said Robson, “but it was a narrow shave. That detective Ben is a marvel. He came with me on the trail, but he left a mark at each stopping place we made for a party who were coming after us. The Cairo police detailed that party to follow and support us. I didn’t know, but Ben knew. Even when we were taken prisoner he was serene.” “Then you were taken prisoners?” asked Burton. “Yes. We saw your duel with that priest. We were across the valley at the time. Mason ordered us to be taken out and pegged down in the desert. We weren’t more than a mile or so from the village when the following party met us. The Tauregs who had us captive threw up the sponge. They are under guard in a hut up above.” “And Farvery?” “He is up there too. He went to pieces under examination. Ben put him through- it. It was Farvery who told us where Muriel was being kept. We were just in time, for she was to be taken away this morning. We met her running along the path. I think that’s about all.” “But' your wound, sir? You were badly hit in that house in Cairo.” “My wound is fine. I disobeyed all the surgeons and doctors. The sight of Muriel and you is the best medicine I could have. Anyway, we’ll be back in Cairo as soon as these police can take us. But what happened in that cave? Did the roof fall in? “It did,” said Burton; and he explained how and why. He was finishing his explanation when the tramp of feet sounded above them. The police were maching out with their prisoners. Ben came first, his guns swinging by his sides. His dark face was radiant. “Isn’t our Chief a great man?” he exclaimed to the three as the prisoners were marched past them. “It was our Chief in Cairo who planned the relay operations. Ah, the Chief is wonderful! What a triumph when these prisoners are led into his office!” “I shan’t forget to tell the Chief how great a detective you are, Ben!” replied Mr Robson. “And when do we star for Cairo?” “After the young lady and her friend have rested, sir. They must have food and rest for some hours. I have sent word for a big meal to be prepared in the village above for us. Shall we go up, and there the lady and her friend can rest before the journey?” “Ben, you think of everything.” Ben stroked his chin thoughtfully, his eyes glimmering and a smile on his dark face. “There is but one thing I have not discovered, or rather two. The first is how that roof fell —” “Mr Burton will explain that. He has just told me.” “And the second,” said Ben, “is how the young lady kept the pearl from these wolves. I have questioned the women and they declare that the young lady hasn’t got it. Now if it is lost ” “It is not lost,” cried Muriel. “No?” Her hands were fumbling at the neck of her yellow jumper, her eyes dancing. “It was my own idea. My father impressed me so much with the necessity of keeping it in a secret place until it was handed to the purser of the liner, that I thought this out. When Mason and Farvery came into the Mobray Villa I snatched the pearl from its box and hid it—here!”

She lifted a tassel which hung on her breast. “All these tassels are woven over a little wooden ball. I got one made hollow. See!” Her fingers worked with the threads of the tassel. She slipped out the wooden ball, unscrewed it—and there, inside, lying in cotton wool, was the pearl, its gold clasp for Cleopatra’s ear still fastened to it! “They searched me time and again,” she said triumphantly, “but nobody ever thought of the tassel. Isn’t it a wonderful pearl? To think that Cleopatra had it on her ear!” It was an exquisite gem, pure and as beautiful as when the Queen of the Egyptians had worn it as a decoration. They gazed at it in silence. Then Muriel screwed the top of the ball on again and thrust it back into its silken retreat. The simplicity and the cunning of the secret took the breath from the three men. “No wonder the Tauregs never found it,” murmured Robson. “Why, Muriel, you never even mentioned that to me!” “There are some secrets a woman always keeps—until the time arrives to reveal them,” she smiled. Ben look at his watch.

“It is time to go,” he announced. “Mr Burton, shall I help you up the path to the village? You are tired and your bruises hurt you—” “That is my job, Ben,” laughed the girl. “Mr Burton has a hurt arm. I shall be his help.” She slipped her arm through that of Burton, and drew him lovingly towards her. “In future we shall help each other,” she said. “We promised, didn’t we, Fred, dearest?” “Always,” he replied gently. “For ever!” “I can hear the wedding bells ringing,” murmured Ben, as they started to walk up to the top of the Valley, where the new day was bright, and fiilled with the promise of happiness. THE END. LOVELY BUT LONELY Mary Rossiter is the creation of that remarkably creator of characters —Mr Holloway Horn. Mary seems fated to be lonely. Her mother died during her infancy, leaving the only child to the care of her doctorfather, who was more concerned with unsuccessful speculation than with his offspring. True, he gave her a liberal education, but Mary made good use of it and finished brilliantly at Cambridge. By that time, her father, weighed down by financial anxieties and ill-health, had ceased to be interested in the affairs of this world. So Mary, now an orphan, took a job as private secretary to an elderly business man. She was lucky in her chief, but her luck did not last, and the benign Sir Hector was succeeded by his amorous son, to whom a pretty secretary was irresistible. Her next job also, came to an end through death. Many found a friend in the young solicitor who wound up her father’s affairs, a man she could trust and whom she liked. But, alas, he was married. Then over in Germany was Kurt Eidenmuller. But the story of Mary must not be anticipated in this fashion. It is too good to lend itself to condensation. The Wairarapa “Times-Age” has secured her story, “Two Men and Mary” as its next serial, and this unusual study of a girl of today—clever, pretty and independent—will begin publication in the Wairarapa “Times-Age” tomorrow. It is told with that quiet charm which makes Mr Holloway Horn’s stories so attractive, and it displays to advantage his unusual gift fox- making his characters come to life. Meet Mary in the first long instalment tomorrow.