Part 32

"I have given the necessary instructions to my chauffeur. He will take the ladies out to the Hospital, Montana, and come back to pick us up, at the 'Aviators' Club.' For, remember, you are engaged to dine with me there, my King of Damascus, and sleep at my house at Ismailia to-night.... I have obtained you the necessary leave from your C.M.O. at the General Hospital." He turned to Katharine, and the beryl eyes and the dazzling teeth gleamed together in the bronze face as he resumed: "Dear lady, do you wonder why I bestow that title on our friend? ... Because it belongs to him. He descends--although he may not know it--in an unbroken line from Hazaël, King of Damascus--the son and successor of the Scriptural Ben-Hadad--against whom Shalmaneser II. of Assyria waged war, in the year 842, before your Christian Era. In one of the cabinets in that room"--he pointed to the windows looking on the loggia--"is a clay tablet inscribed in Semitic--Assyrian-Cuneiform,--an heirloom preserved in your family," he looked at John, "for many centuries."

"How tremendously interesting!" Katharine commented, doing her best to be pleasant with this man, for whom she had conceived, what she was wont to term, one of her loathings: "My brother Julian used at one time--I suppose he has forgotten it all now!--to dabble a good deal in Semitic--tell me if I pronounce the rest of it badly!--Assyrian-Cuneiform. He was secretary and amanuensis to the Father General of his Order, Abbot Lansquier, of whom perhaps you may have heard."

"He is a great man. I have heard of him," said the Egyptian, quickly. "He would be interested in this tablet. It is," he went on addressing John, "a letter from Achab, King of Israel, in answer to some communication from Hazaël.... Your late grandfather and I were much interested in deciphering it at one time. We translated it into Hebrew, French, and English--and though I might miss out a word occasionally, I could repeat the substance of the letter by heart."

And he began to repeat in his smooth voice:

"_Now let us measure our strength together against this scornful King of Assyria, fat with the conquest of Tabul, and Milid, where are the silver, salt and alabaster mines. I, the King of Israel, with two thousand chariots and ten thousand soldiers, and thou the King of Damascus with seven hundred horsemen and twenty thousand unmounted men. And thou and I will be brothers, and thy son shall take to him my daughter; and the dowry I will give him with the Princess shall be twenty talents of gold, twenty-three thousand talents of silver, five thousand talents of copper, with coloured raiment from Egypt, mantles adorned with embroidery, a jewelled diadem, an ivory couch, a parasol of ivory studded with jewels, all which shall be delivered thee in Damascus, in the chambers of thy palace there. This is the word of Achab, King of Israel, to Hazaël the King of Damascus._"

As the Egyptian repeated the final words, looking at John Hazel, Katharine, whose eyes had followed Essenian's, recognised with a thrill of alarm, the now familiar transformation of the swarthy face with the great hooked nose, into a mask of stone. The light died out of the man's black eyes. He seemed to be mentally searching. She knew that he groped for the end of the spider-thread that linked for him the Present and the Past.

Essenian, in the same instant, saw the change and stopped in sheer amazement. He was about to speak, when the monotonous voice came from the mouth of the mask:

"_So it was, and there was a compact, and peace between Hazaël and Achab; and Istâr the Princess of the House of Israel, was wedded to the son of King Hazaël. And Achab and Hazaël went forth together to meet the King of Assyria; and he fought with them and defeated them, and destroyed with weapons sixteen thousand soldiers, and took eleven hundred chariots, and four hundred and thirty horses, and all the treasures of their camps. And he drove King Hazaël from the Fortress of Mount Saniru, and laid waste towns and villages, and hemmed him in Damascus, even the city of his glory. Its gardens of trees he cut down. And he slew the King with a stone from a war-engine, even in the Court of his Palace; and his son reigned instead of him, and paid tribute to the King of Assyria. But the Queen said, 'Must I bear a son to the son of him who has been worsted in battle?' And she ceased not--day nor night to taunt--him, like Lilith--who--_"

The voice faltered, broke, and stopped short. And Katharine, noting Essenian's rapid breathing, guessed, despite his well-maintained composure, that curiosity and interest raged in him.

"Is there no more, my King?" he almost whispered. "Think again.... There must be more to tell!"

"_And the Queen, Istâr, said: 'Woe is me! For the star of this house is declining, and the days of its glory are done! I cannot go back to my father, for Achab has turned himself to idols. But if this that I bear in my womb be a son, he shall worship the God of Israel in His Temple at Jerusalem.... For there is none other than Him!_'" The dragging voice stopped.

"And then ... what more? There must be more!" urged the Egyptian, avidly.

"I--I--cannot! ..."

John Hazel stared glassily at Essenian, and as Essenian looked back at him with long gleaming eyes of beryl, he lifted a hand to his forehead as though bewildered, and a dew of fine globules of perspiration broke out and glittered upon his temples, and cheeks, and jaws.... And, then, stirred to solicitude, warned by some inward voice to interpose, Katharine stretched forth her own hand and touched John Hazel lightly on the hand he lifted, saying in her clear, full, womanly tones:

"Mr. Hazel!"

"You ... you wanted me?"

He asked the question dully, but in his natural, ordinary voice. His black eyes lost their glassy stare as they encountered Katharine's.... And holding them with her own bright, steady gaze, she spoke to him again.

"It is getting late. Will you please find your aunt and the Commandant and tell Lady Wastwood that a car is waiting; and that we have only sufficient time to get back to the Hospital by seven!"

"Certainly. In half a jiff! ..."

He shook himself, and moved off with his lengthy strides in the direction of the shrubbery. And the beryl eyes of Essenian were on Katharine, scintillating evilly, and the smooth lips were stretched in that inscrutable, hateful smile....

"A very remarkable type of man--our good friend Hazel!" Essenian said, still smiling; and Katharine returned in cool, unruffled tones:

"Remarkable, and interesting."

"You find that? ..." What hinted meaning lurked behind that smooth interrogation? "Physically and _psychologically_, I myself find him quite uniquely interesting. His is a curiously dual personality; does it not strike you as being so? What wonderful powers of clairvoyance are his! What a link between the Seen and the Unseen, such powers might forge, for one who could employ them well! A Seeker after Wisdom, such as I am myself...." He drew out a fine white linen handkerchief exhaling some delicate essence, and passed it over his face, and dried the palms of his dark hands. The hands shook; their owner was the prey of some overmastering agitation as he went on: "But why should I speak ambiguously to one who understands? I saw him pass into the trance, from which you roused him by the exercise of your will.... You who can control--naturally you desire to keep to yourself, such a gift as Mr. Hazel's--a source of knowledge beyond all estimate...."

He went on, with increasing earnestness and persistence, as, conscious of increasing dislike and resentment, Katharine looked at him without making any reply:

"Miss Forbis, you may not know that I am rich.... Whether you are so yourself or not, ladies appreciate exquisite jewels, and I own many that are unusually fine.... Gratify me in connection with my desire to see your friend in a similar condition to--that I just now had the privilege of witnessing! Permit me to question him--and name your price! ... Do not be offended, I entreat!" the Egyptian pursued, warned by the flush on Katharine's cheek, and the frown that gathered on her forehead--"There may be something in which I can serve you.... If so, command me.... I ask no more! ..."

He changed his tone as John Hazel returned, accompanying Lady Wastwood and Mrs. Hazaël.

"I mentioned to you a little previously that--several years ago,--your late brother, Captain Forbis, honoured my poor house at Ismailia by being my guest. May I hope that you will similarly honour me? The gardens are really worth seeing.... Though the house, naturally, does not boast the interest attaching to this...."

"You are most kind, Essenian Pasha," Katharine returned, somewhat hesitatingly, conscious on the one hand of the insolence of the native who had presumed to offer her a bribe, painfully sensible, on the other, of the fact that Julian's freedom possibly depended on the co-operation of this unspeakably objectionable man. "But the time at my own disposal being so exceedingly limited, it would be impossible to give you a date."

"My profound regrets!" He bowed from the hips with his acquired French elegance. "Though I hope that a day will come yet when you will consent to honour me! Most of the beautiful English ladies who have visited our country have praised the house and garden.... Must the dwelling be darkened, and the trees about it wither, because denied the presence of the most beautiful of all! ..."

The flourishing Eastern hyperbole was delivered with Essenian's velvety softness, and accompanied by a display of glittering eyes and teeth. And Katharine, stifling her acute dislike as might best be managed, thanked the Egyptian in some formal phrase of polite regret and gratitude--cut short as John Hazel returned accompanying Trixie and Mrs. Hazaël, by the less formal utterances of leave-taking.... Mrs. Hazaël, in taking Katharine's offered hand, made the slight curtsey appropriate to Royalty. And Katharine, as she bent to kiss the little lady's cheek, was conscious that Essenian's strange eyes leapt out of their drowsy languor into glittering curiosity.

She had longed to give John Hazel another hearty hand-grip, to have whispered another parting word,--but the Egyptian intervened....

It was Essenian who conducted Miss Forbis to the car, a palatial Daimler of huge size, enamelled black and violent red; overloaded with solid silver and ivory fittings; lined with primrose satin brocade upholstery, and driven by a handsome Italian chauffeur.

"How gorgeous! And in what native taste!" cried Trixie, delightedly as the springy yellow cushions received her. "And does it belong to the Egyptian Flying Officer--the little, purring Pasha with the extraordinary eyes? I shall call him 'The Basilisk' because he reminds me of one!"

They had quitted the dust and racket of the city, and as they passed through the Rosetta Gate, and out upon the Aboukir Road, and were in the quiet suburbs on the east, near the European cemetery, Katharine rose and looked back, and gave a cry of admiration. For Alexandria,--with her domes and minarets and huge square blocks of modern buildings,--bathed in the rose and amber light of an Egyptian sunset--was beautiful with something of the beauty of the Past....

"That is something to have seen," Katharine said with a sigh, as she dropped back on the springy primrose cushions. "Thank you, dear Lady Wastwood, for a wonderful afternoon! You have been happy, haven't you?"

"Quite amused," Lady Wastwood answered. "And if I haven't been quite happy, well, then neither have you!"

She moved nearer to Katharine, and took her hand, and patted it, affection mingling with solicitude in the green eyes that questioned the face of her friend.

"I won't make pretences to you, dear Commandant," Katharine returned after an instant's hesitation. "I have cause to be happy, and cause to be anxious. And the anxiety weighs so heavily that Happiness kicks the beam."

Trixie patted her hand again, and said as the car bowled along the Aboukir Canal Road with its charming country villas shaded by palms and casuarina-groves:

"If I can help in any way, you promise--you will let me? Won't treat me like a stranger--will give me the chance I'd like.... To show you that I don't forget--what I can never speak of, but what I live through in my dreams--nearly every night! Promise! For I am a lonely woman, Kathy dear, though I keep my end up and don't go round howling for sympathy!--and I am truly fond of you."

"I promise, dear friend. And I would tell you now what the trouble is--because I trust you absolutely--where I myself am concerned! But I am not free to give away the confidence of another."

"Meaning the Jew Colossus with the great hooked nose," said Trixie mentally. And Katharine went on:

"You're looking better. You've not had that dream of late. Probably because it has done you good--sleeping in the open."

For Lady Wastwood and Miss Forbis shared one of the roomy sleeping-tents in the grounds of the Palace, distinguished from other similar groups as the "V.A.D's Annexe."

"I shall hate it when the rains come and drive us back indoors," Trixie responded. "And to-night at any rate I shan't dream of shipwreck,--I shall dream of The Basilisk! That man gives me cold shivers all down my spinal column. Why, I couldn't exactly explain. Some people have a horror of cats--the gentlest and most faithful pets to those who love and understand them. Others simply abominate dogs--I'm not keen on them myself! But my feeling for the little Pasha isn't one of those mild antipathies. Shall I tell you what those basilisk eyes of his keep saying to me? No!--it's all right--the chauffeur can't hear! They say: 'My dear lady--I'm a wealthy Gyppo Notability, esteemed an Ace of Aces in the hand of the R.F.C.... I've a chestful of decorations--all earned brilliantly. _But my Mother was a Tigress--and my Father was a Snake!_ ...'"

"_Est ce que les dames feront un petit tour en campagne, ou retourneront elles directement à l' Hôpital?_"

"Will the ladies take a little tour in the country, or return directly to the Hospital?"

The question, asked in French through the speaking-tube fixed above the seat in front of them, made Katharine and the Commandant start. Briefly informed of the ladies' desire, the Italian turned the car upon the sanded road curving past the Khedivial Palace; and after half-a-dozen miles, swept round in a northward curve and presently was climbing a gradient between the orchards of peach and apricot trees, the fig-groves and pine-woods and gardens of beautiful Montana, gleaming like a fairy palace of rosy mother o' pearl in the fires of the sunset; on the square green promontory at whose shoreward base break the pearl and sapphire surges of the Western Sea.

XII

"The name of Forbes is common enough in your North Britain--the name of Forbis sufficiently unusual, to put me on the scent. And--one looks for the lady in these affairs!" purred Essenian, as he left the house in the Rue el Farad with John Hazel--profiting by the coolness of the evening to walk to the Aviators' Club. "Let me add, your taste is unimpeachable. I have never seen a handsomer Englishwoman than your friend."

Now he pursued, in his smooth, book-learned English, drawing out a platinum cigarette case--opening and offering it to John:

"Take one. The Macedonian leaf failed last year, but not so the crops of Shiraz, grown and ripened side by side with the purple-petalled afiyûn. You perhaps may not know this Club..." he added a little later, as they entered the wide, cool vestibule of a handsome granite building in Sherif Pasha Street. "No! Well, I anticipated you would not! ... Originally an association of mere amateur civilians, meeting periodically to exchange experiences--the Club has become,--since Government took over our aërodrome and hangars--you know them!--near the Water Works due east of Aboukir Road--a resort for Flying Officers of all grades and branches of the Service.... Since then, if much more social--we are a damnable lot more noisy and a good deal less exclusive.... Still, our Club remains distinguished by its European comfort, and its excellent _cuisine_!"

The dining-room into which a demure Levantine waiter ushered Essenian and his companion, was perfectly ventilated by electric appliances, and open along the whole of one side towards a sanded court containing a fountain, a great many long cane-chairs and several palms; and of the many small tables dotted over the spotless matting covering the floor, the majority were empty, though apparently reserved for diners. A few were already occupied. With the men who sat at them,--officers of the R.F.C. from the land-stations in the neighbourhood, and others of the R.N.A.S. from the sea-plane-stations at Ramleh, Port Said, Wara in the Delta,--and the seaplane-carrier anchored at the moment in the Port, Essenian exchanged nods and salutes of smiling courtesy. Several of the younger men stood up to greet him--though none approached the table where the Egyptian airman sat with a long-legged private of Territorials, wearing the badges of a London Regiment....

The temperature of the room approximated to that of London in July, thanks to the incessant movement of the wooden ceiling-fans. The dinner began excellently, with _hors d'œuvres_ of giant prawns, miniature cucumbers and fresh olives, and a shell-fish of delicate flavour, served on miniature mountains of finely pounded ice. A Comet hock accompanied, and a clear soup was succeeded by a _turban de turbot_, perfectly cooked, and a curry of tiny whitebait-like fish from the Canal.

Roast lamb and duckling followed, both of remarkable succulence, and John Hazel, who had lived for weeks on bully-beef and onions, tough Palestine goat-mutton, and slabby rice-pudding speckled with the bodies of defunct flies,--having--in the unavoidable absence of these--cheerfully battened on iron rations, the bottom of a tin of jam and a handful of sticky dates,--yielded now to the immemorial allure of the Egyptian fleshpots; and attacking dish after dish with the ferocity of an ogre, slaked his huge thirst with repeated draughts of the well-iced champagne supplied....

The magnificent red roses massed in a crystal and silver rose-bowl in the centre of their table, and the gratification of satisfying the hunger that raged in him, prevented him from grasping a fact to which he awakened later,--when quail from Upper Egypt with egg-plant and quince salad, and snipe from the marshes of the Delta succeeded the lamb and duckling, and he paused to gather breath.... For Essenian sat smiling on the other side of the roses, before unused cutlery and silver, and an array of wine-glasses innocent of wine.

"My hat! Pasha, what must you think of me?" John began, nearly dropping the fork and spoon that were lifting a plump quail from the offered dish: "This ain't your Ramadan, is it, by any chance? No, of course, that comes in May. Has anything put you off your feed, or don't you ever eat?"

"Have no anxiety on my account, my King of Damascus," returned Essenian, narrowing his long eyes as he smiled upon his guest: "I am well, and that I continue so, I owe to precautions which may seem absurd to you. But every advantage we enjoy in this world has to be purchased--and I purchase vigour and health at the expense of my appetite.... Pray do justice to the quail, while I follow my usual rule."

He clapped his hands, and an Egyptian body-servant, who had stood immovable in the background, holding a silver tray, moved noiselessly forwards and set before Essenian a goblet of crystal and a long-necked crystal beaker;--together with some small covered dishes of delicate porcelain, revealing when the covers were lifted--nothing beyond a few fresh dates, a small, snow-white cream cheese, and a delicate napkin, enveloping a round cake of bread.

"Distilled water and freshly-gathered fruit, with bread of the purest sesame-flour.... Of these, in limited quantity, I may eat twice in the day. Preferably, at dawn, and after sunset; though by religion I am no more Moslem than I am a Christian," said Essenian, daintily filling the crystal goblet, "or a Parsi, or a Hindu, or a Buddhist, or a Jew...." He broke bread.... "What is this? ..." He turned with feline suddenness on the dusky servant who stood behind him, and said harshly, speaking in Arabic: "There is error! The sesame has been mingled with wheaten-flour. It is impure.... I cannot eat of it! ... Take it away at once...."

"_La yâ Sidi--Allâh yisallimak!_" the man protested, paling under his chocolate skin.

But Essenian had sniffed the bread-cake remotely and delicately as a fox might sniff at some slily-poisoned titbit, and now replaced it on the dish, and thrust the dish away....

"Carry it to the cook and inquire into the matter!" He said to Hazel, as the servant removed the dish and vanished straightway: "Do not be disturbed on my account! To one so well schooled in abstinence as myself, it would matter little if the meal consisted only of dates. Mixed in a draught of this pure water, a few drops of an excellent tonic (to the virtues of which I am a living testimony) will more than supply the deficiency.... Meanwhile, do not neglect our _chef's_ excellent _omelette soufflée_. Or the _bombe glace_ of custard-apple on which he prides himself.... And then--since I know better than to offer cheese to a man who has been 'fed to the wide,' with that as an article of Army rations,--I will join you in a cup of Arabian coffee, black, thick and bitter as the nectar of Mocha should be."

He took from a front pocket of his Service jacket a little case of shining yellow metal, and opening it, showed three slender crystal vials, reposing in a velvet bed. He unstoppered one,--tinging the air laden with the savour of meats and viands--with a whiff of something delicately pungent--rather suggesting the fragrance of lemon-plant to John.... Then with dainty, scrupulous care, he dropped seven drops into the goblet of distilled water; re-stoppered the vial, wiped the lip with a green leaf, returned the vial to its bed, and pocketed the case,--watching through narrowed eyelids the turbid changes taking place in the clear liquid, until as it deepened from cloudy red to clearest ruby, he glanced across the rose-bowl to encounter Hazel's eyes....

"A pretty colour, is it not?" he said critically, holding up the goblet. "Now I will drink, and you must join me. I hope you do not find fault with our Club champagne? ..." He continued, signing to the attendant, who stood ready with another napkined bottle: "That you have been drinking came from von Falkenhayn's Headquarters in Transylvania,--when we bombed him out of them in the summer of 1916.... That defeat of the Vulkan Pass must have been a crushing blow to the Emperor's magnificent favourite,--coming after the tremendous failure of the Second Attack on Verdun."

To the rout of the Vulkan Pass, John knew, Essenian's prowess had contributed. When Roumania had joined the Allies in the August of 1916, and massed her Army on the Carpathian frontier for an invasion of Transylvania, Essenian had acted as Wing Commander of a squadron of Allied Aircraft, acting in concert with a Roumanian Army Corps,--and for his services had been distinguished with the Order of the Roumanian Crown. At Salonika, later on,--for the first time meeting Essenian--John had encountered the French observer who had accompanied the Egyptian's flights.