Читать книгу Daughter of Fu Manchu - Arthur Henry Ward - Страница 9

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“If only Nayland Smith could join us,” said Weymouth.

Dr. Petrie, looking very haggard in the lamplight, stared at him.

“The same thought had just crossed my own mind,” he replied. “I am due to sail for England on Thursday. I had been counting the days. He’s meeting me in....”

I knew that I could never again be present at so singular a scene. The hut was in part a laboratory, one end being devoted to Forester’s special province, and containing a table laden with jars, test tubes, and other chemical paraphernalia. In part it was a museum. There were plans, diagrams, and photographs—Rima’s photographs—pinned on the walls: lumps of stone bearing labels stacked upon the floor; and in open cases were all sorts of fragments found during the earlier stages of our excavation and duly tabulated in the same way.

There was a very dilapidated mummy case at the further end of the hut, which we had taken over from the Egypt Exploration people and had not troubled to remove. The lid rested against the wall. Then there was a long, bare table, very stoutly built, upon which finds were stacked at the end of the day, examined, and sorted according to their value. This, particularly, was my job. But at the moment, as I have said, the table was empty. When I had seen it last before leaving for Cairo, the body of Sir Lionel Barton lay upon it, covered by a gray blanket.

Now, in almost complete silence, for twenty minutes or more, I had watched a one-time chief inspector of Scotland Yard carrying out a detailed investigation in that strangest of settings.

Weymouth had not confined his inquiries to the hut alone, but, assisted by a flash-lamp, had examined the lock of the door, the windows, the path outside; but had finally returned and stared at the table.

Now he fixed his eyes upon me, and:

“Mr. Greville,” he said, “you are not prejudiced by certain suspicions of mine which are shared by Dr. Petrie. I asked Mr. Forester to see to the comfort of Jameson Hunter because I wanted just the three of us alone here. Now, you look pretty well whacked, but I know how you feel about this thing; so I am going to ask you a few questions.”

“As many as you like,” I replied.

Superintendent Weymouth sat down on the bench just beside the door and knitted his brows; then:

“Where is the headman Ali Mahmoud?” he asked.

“Forester tells me he sent him across to Luxor to-night with a letter for our friend the manager of the Winter Palace. Forester asked him, in the letter, to call you, Superintendent, in Cairo, and to explain what had happened. Ali should be back, now.”

Weymouth nodded thoughtfully.

“Leaving out for the moment the circumstances of Sir Lionel’s death,” said he, “how long a time elapsed between your finding him in his tent and the removal of his body to this hut?”

“Roughly, two hours,” I replied after a few moments’ thought.

“During those two hours someone was always in sight of the tent?”

“Certainly.”

“When was it decided he should be moved?”

“When I made up my mind to go to Cairo. I gave instructions for his body to be placed in this hut ... I am second in command, you know. Forester agreed, although he swore that life was extinct. I personally superintended the job. I locked the hut, handed the keys to Forester, and turned in, hoping for some sleep before starting for Luxor.”

“Did you sleep?”

“No. I lay awake right up to the time I had to set out.”

“Did anything unusual occur during the night?”

I thought hard, and then:

“Yes,” I replied. “There was a queer howling of dogs. Ali Mahmoud turned out. He said the sound had not been made by dogs. But of course he was rather strung up. We all were. We searched but found nothing.”

“H’m! What time was this?”

“I am afraid I can’t tell you. But some time before dawn.”

“Did you open this hut?”

“No.”

“Ah!” said Weymouth meditatively. “That was a pity. And now, Mr. Greville, there’s another point I’m not clear about. You spoke of Sir Lionel’s niece. Where is she and where was she at the time of the tragedy?”

I had expected the question, of course. Nevertheless I didn’t quite know how to meet it. I saw Dr. Petrie regarding me curiously, and at last:

“I don’t know where she is!” I replied—and recognized how strange the words must sound.

“What!” Weymouth exclaimed. “But I thought she was official photographer?”

“She is. But.... Well! We had a quarrel. She went across to Luxor on Tuesday at midday. I haven’t seen her since!”

“Oh, I see,” said Weymouth. “Forgive me. I hadn’t grasped the position. Sir Lionel knew of her absence?”

“He treated it as a joke. That was his way. She often stayed in Luxor and worked here during the day.”

“Did he approve of the—understanding?”

“Yes. At least I think so.”

“I suppose, as she hasn’t come back, that she doesn’t know what’s happened?”

“I suppose so. But I am very anxious....”

“Naturally.” Weymouth looked suddenly grave; and then:

“Perhaps, Mr. Greville,” he said, “you would ask Forester to come in?”

I opened the door and walked out in the dense shadow of the wâdi. A new atmosphere invested it, an atmosphere to which, even mentally, I didn’t like to give a name, but which nevertheless was an atmosphere of terror.

What was the meaning of the disappearance of Sir Lionel’s body? Whom could it benefit? Most damnable mystery of all—what was the information clearly shared by Weymouth and Petrie which they were suppressing?

So my thoughts ran as I walked through the shadows. The moon was out of sight from the wâdi but the stars were wonderful. And suddenly the natural law of things had its way. I began to think of Rima, to the exclusion of everything else.

Her empty tent—the tent which she occupied when she spent the night in camp—was on the slope directly ahead. Moonlight touched it at one point, but the front was in shadow.

“If I am in the way,” I seemed to hear her voice saying again, “I can go.—”

If she was in the way! What had she meant? I had had no chance to find out. She had gone. Undoubtedly she was labouring under some strange delusion. But where was she—and did she know what had happened?

I was abreast of her tent, now, and something—an empty longing, no doubt—prompted me to peep inside. As I did so, an incredible thing happened—or, rather, two incredible things.

The mournful howling of a dog arose, apparently quite close to the camp. And in the darkness of the tent something stirred!

I suppressed a cry, bent forward with outstretched arms ... and found a slim soft body in my embrace!

Even then, I couldn’t believe what was true, couldn’t appreciate the nature of my capture, until:

“Shan! Shan!” came a stifled cry. “You’re hurting me dreadfully!”

“Rima!” I exclaimed—and wondered if my heart or hers throbbed the more wildly.

I said not another word. Stooping, I kissed her with a desperation which probably sprang from a submerged fear that she would never give me an opportunity of kissing her again.

But, thank heaven, that doubt was groundless. She threw her arms around my neck, as the mournful howling died away, and:

“Shan,” she said, “I’m terrified, Shan dear!”

But her kisses had given me the right to console her, and when we presently reverted to sanity:

“When did you arrive, darling?” I asked.

“I came back with Ali. He told me—everything about it. So, of course, I had to come.”

“But what made you go?”

She nestled her adorable little tousled head against me.

“I won’t be scolded,” she said—“although I am to blame! No, please, Shan. I truly meant what I said. I did really think I was in the way.”

“In whose way?”

“If you talk to me like that I won’t answer. Besides, there isn’t time now. I should have come back to-night even if I had had to come alone. I have something most extraordinary to tell you....”

But now came the sound of voices.

“I tell you it wasn’t a dog,” I heard Forester say.

“It wasn’t either!” Rima whispered. “But you must go, Shan. I’m all right, now. Who is in the big hut?”

“Dr. Petrie and Superintendent Weymouth——”

“They were old friends ... weren’t they——”

“Yes, darling. Don’t despair. It sounds absurd to say so, but they have a theory that the chief——”

“Please tell me.”

“It’s hardly fair, Rima. I don’t believe it, myself. But they think he may be alive!”

She clung to me very tightly, and then:

“But I think so, too!” she whispered.