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26. exactly attractive, hardly prepossessing; in fact, let's say, a trifle
dishevelled, distinctly ragged, and frightfully dirty."
Philip wound up with a hearty roar of laughter which bent him
double, and then stood up before his friend for examination, an
examination which Geoff made with twinkling eyes and smiles which
showed his amusement.
"Dirty has it first with you," he told Philip. "'Pon my word, after that
drive last night at the back of the chaise, in clouds of dust all the
time, you look rather more like a dust-heap than anything else. My
word, wasn't I thirsty! That draught of water was a perfect godsend.
But, to go back to what I was saying, we ain't, either of us, exactly
the sort of people who could walk into Bagdad in broad daylight and
escape the attention of the people. Now, are we? Not likely! They'd
spot us at once; these ragged remnants of khaki uniform would tell
against us promptly."
"It's a facer," said Phil; "we've either got to get a change of raiment
or we shall have to sneak into Bagdad during the darkness."
"When we would probably knock up against sentries at the gates
and be promptly captured," said Geoff. "You go and keep a bright
look-out whilst I rummage round this place."
Humble though the occupants of that cottage may have been, and,
indeed, undoubtedly were, the interior of the place was, like the
crockery borrowed from it, kept scrupulously clean, and, wending his
way from the main apartment into another, which did service as a
sleeping-room, Geoff found it much the same—clean and tidy, with
nothing distasteful about it. But, like the other contents of the place,
which were few and far between, the store of clothing there was
even scantier.
"Sort of shepherd's cloak and hat to match, with sandals for the
feet," said Geoff, as he examined the articles hanging on a wooden
peg. "They'd do for Philip; he'd look fine in 'em. What's this? Just the
ordinary togs worn by a Turkish peasant—perhaps the very things
27. our friend who owns the hut wears when he goes into Bagdad. Well,
as Philip says, it's rather rough to deprive him of them; but then,
what else is there to do? And are we to put his feelings and his
losses before our own safety?"
Without more ado he brought the garments out of the house into
the open, and whistled loudly to Philip. Then, for fear lest the owner
of the place should return from a different direction and discover
them, he crossed the open space, where the fire was still
smouldering, and plunged into the trees beyond, where, later on,
Philip, returning from the point he had reached, and from which he
had been able to view the road beyond and the path taken by the
shepherd, joined him.
"Put on those," Geoff told him, "and stick your boots into your belt.
We'll sit down here and wait till the afternoon is passed, and then
take the road for the city. Slip on the cloak and the hat over your
ordinary clothes; I'll do the same with these things. They're scanty
enough, so that we shan't be too warmly clad, and therefore there is
no necessity to discard our own rags, and perhaps run the risk of
having our tracks discovered by the shepherd or his dog coming
across them."
Taking the opportunity of their enforced stay in the grove of palm-
trees, and of the shade which it afforded them, they slept
alternately, thus making up for their lost rest during the preceding
night; and it was while Geoff was on watch, and Philip lay full length
and sleeping heavily, that our hero saw the shepherd return by the
same route that had taken him away and enter his cottage. Minutes
passed, and though he came out and stretched himself in the sun,
evidently awaiting his midday meal and the return of his wife, not
once did he suspect that anyone had been there in the interval.
Indeed, there was nothing to rouse his suspicions, for all was as he
had left it, and the two subalterns had been careful enough to clean
the plates they had used and return them to their respective
positions. The dog, too, much to Geoff's delight, curled himself up at
28. his master's feet, though at first he had sniffed round, and had
shown some traces of curiosity, if not of momentary excitement.
As for the woman, there was not a sign of her as yet, though when
the day had dragged on a little, and the afternoon had nearly
waned, Geoff saw her coming along the road from Bagdad, and
watched her as she turned off towards the grove of trees and finally
entered the sunlit arena in which the hut was situated. It was as
good as a play then, though he felt rather sorry for it, to watch the
woman's amazement when she took the steaming pot from the fire,
and, having brought two basins from the cottage and placed them
upon a ledge just outside, poured some water into them from it. He
watched as the dame dropped the pot and lifted her hands in
amazement; and smiled grimly, too, as the man got languidly to his
feet, not as yet understanding the situation, and then finally, when
he realized that his midday meal was not forthcoming, clenched his
fists and muttered, and showed his anger. Then bewilderment took
possession of the two of them, and, having asked questions the one
of the other, they stared at the pot as it lay on the sandy ground as
if it were a thing possessed, and even edged away from it.
"But it's a strange thing this thing that has happened," the man
muttered between his teeth. "By Allah, no such thing have I known
in the course of all my journeyings! You say, wife, that you placed
some flesh of a sheep within the pot?"
"Say it?" the woman replied in a shrill, angry, and rather frightened
tone, glaring at her lord and master. "But, as Allah hears me, you
yourself saw me add flesh to the pot ere you went, and after you
had gone I added more. What then is this? Ah! A thief, eh?"
That idea had not occurred to either of them before; but now it
seized upon their imagination instantly, and roused them to a pitch
of anger and excitement.
"A thief! Yes, of course. Why did we not think of that before? Here,
dog, find him."
29. Geoff bent down and shook the sleeping Philip heartily.
"Come along at once," he told him; "let us slip out into the open and
run for the road. It will be dusk almost by the time we reach it, and
if that dog doesn't trace us we ought to be able to get clear away. I
ought to explain that the man and his wife returned while you were
asleep, and now, having decided that probably someone has been
there at the cottage in their absence, they are sending the dog to
search round."
The yelps of the animal could be heard at that moment, as the two
slid through the trees and out into the open. Then they took to their
heels, and, following a hollow down which water no doubt poured in
the rainy season, and which protected them from observation, they
gained the high road within a little while—that rough high road,
covered inches thick in sandy dust, along which the ruffianly von
Hildemaller had passed in the hours of darkness.
"We'll walk along steadily, taking notice of no one," said Geoff. "If we
pass people, and they address us, leave it to me to answer, and I'll
find some excuse for you. In any case, if I have to stop for a
moment, you walk on, for there's nothing else that you can do, and
to stop might prove dangerous."
That evening, after dusk had fallen, and just before the gates of the
city were closed, two rough shepherds from the desert passed into
the city of Bagdad unnoticed, unchallenged, without raising the
smallest suspicion. Passing along the main street which leads to the
Bazaar, they turned off sharply into a narrow alley, which led them to
an even narrower street, over which the rows of houses on either
side met almost completely.
"And now?" whispered Philip. "Where to? Here's Bagdad all right,
and a fellow begins to feel a little more free. But what's our next
move? Besides, there's a meal to be considered."
"And a bed," Geoff told him. "This way. You'll find that we are not
entirely without friends in this city. Follow straight up this street and
30. turn off when I turn into another alley."
Proceeding along that other dark and somewhat noisome alley, Geoff
suddenly ran into an obstacle—an obstacle which rebounded and
which proved to be a man, who was not less startled than himself.
"Pardon!" the man cried, and would have hurried on.
"One moment; your name?" asked Geoff, using the Armenian
tongue. "Your name, my friend, for there is something in your voice
that reminds me of one I have known."
There was silence perhaps for a whole minute, while Philip slid up
behind Geoff, ready to support him, and anticipating trouble. Then
suddenly there came a glad cry of surprise from the individual who
had cannoned into Geoff, and a hand gripped his arm firmly.
"My master, you are Keith Pasha. Yes?" asked the voice—the voice
was Esbul's.
"I am," Geoff told him promptly in tones of relief, for indeed this was
a most happy meeting.
"Then come, my master. I have a place of safety for you; there is
one who will greet you warmly and find food, and space, and
raiment for you. Come, my master, for I also have something which
will delight your heart. Listen, Master! I have news of Douglas
Pasha."
31. CHAPTER XIX
Tracking the German
"What luck! What splendid luck!" whispered Philip, as the trio—
himself, Geoff, and Esbul—stumbled along the dark archways and
across the rough courtyards of the city of Bagdad on their way to
those hospitable quarters which the Armenian had mentioned; for
Geoff had hurriedly told him who the man was against whom he had
stumbled in the darkness, and had intimated to his chum that they
were on their way to some haven.
"Spl—en—did!" emphasized Philip, muttering the word over and over
again; "food, raiment, and a place in which to sleep safely. Well, it
will be good to lie down and sleep soundly for one night, feeling that
one isn't caged in like a bird, and isn't in immediate danger of arrest
and further imprisonment."
"And better still to know that there is something before us," Geoff
answered him as they reached a low doorway leading out of the
courtyard, "better, far better, Philip, to hear that Esbul has news of
my guardian—news of Douglas Pasha—news so valuable that he
won't impart it to me out here, but is waiting until we get into this
house and under shelter."
A sharp rap on the door was answered after a while by a gruff
request to enter, and presently the three were stumbling up the
flight of steps down which Esbul had gone when he left Benshi the
Jew—that mysterious, silent, and thoughtful friend of Douglas Pasha.
In a trice it seemed they were in the room he occupied, to find the
Jew seated on a divan, his eyes fixed on the opposite wall, the same
listless unfathomable expression about his haggard face. And yet
32. that face could show animation when he wished, could show
friendship and welcome.
"Be seated," he told the two subalterns. "Be seated, Keith Pasha,
ward of that one who has been my friend for many years, of
Douglas Pasha. So, Esbul, it came about that in passing on your way
from the house where you were watching you hit upon these two,
hit upon them by mere chance, by pure accident!"
"But how—how did you learn that then?" asked Geoff impulsively;
for it was but a few minutes ago only that that unexpected meeting
had taken place, and how could the Jew have gained tidings of it?
Had he guessed it? Had he merely divined it because of their coming
together? Or had this mysterious man obtained news of the event in
the same mysterious manner in which other and more valuable
information came to him?
"Be seated, my master," Benshi said, ignoring the question for the
moment. "Let Esbul place food before you; and to-morrow he will
lead you to that place where Douglas Pasha is imprisoned. Is it not
so, Esbul? You who have watched over the German, were you not on
your way hither to give me tidings of this von Hildemaller and of his
movements on the morrow?"
A glance at the young Armenian proved indeed that that must be the
case, though how Benshi had learned of that also was beyond him.
Amazement was written on every feature; he gasped with
astonishment, and then smiled at our hero.
"It is even so," he told him. "Men come and go, but Benshi sits here
or in the Bazaar, seeing nothing it would seem, hearing no news,
merely existing the day through, and yet—and yet, news reaches
him."
"Aye! Reaches me, my friend, in a manner that I will not explain;
news sometimes small and petty, sometimes of great doings, of
great events. Listen now, whilst Esbul brings food before you. My
master, you desire news of your friends, of your expedition which
33. has come to Mesopotamia, which fought its way to Basra and
Kurnah, and from thence advanced up the Tigris to Amara? You
desire tidings of those friends whom you accompanied to Nasiriyeh,
and of those others who struck to the north-east and seized Ahwaz?
Then, I will tell you.
"Amara fell to them as easily as a ripe orange falls to the hands of
the plucker. Then came an advance up the river to Kut-el-Amara,
while Turks waited the coming of the British and the Indians in full
force, in positions prepared most carefully for them under the
leading of Germans—men of the same cunning and skill as this von
Hildemaller. Yet they were defeated."
"Defeated!" exclaimed Geoff; "you mean that the Expeditionary
Force has captured Kut, really?"
"They stormed those positions; they outflanked the Turks," the Jew
told him, his listless eyes wandering for one moment from the wall
opposite to our hero's face and to Philip's, and then back to the old
position. "They captured the town of Kut-el-Amara and pursued the
fleeing Turks. And then, my masters, they followed——"
"Followed towards Bagdad?" asked Geoff, rising to his feet in his
eagerness. "Followed in this direction? Then they are near already?"
Benshi waved him back to his seat with a listless movement of one
hand, and went on with his story.
"Nay," he said, and sighed as if he were sorry that it was not so.
"Nay, my master, the force of which we are speaking advanced in
small numbers up the River Tigris towards Bagdad, till indeed but
within a few leagues of it, till they reached the old tomb of the
Caliph at Ctesiphon, where once more the Turks were awaiting them
in prepared positions, where, indeed, they had amassed large
numbers of soldiers—so much so that they outnumbered the British
by at least three to one. There was a battle then in which the Turks
suffered heavily and the British also, a battle which disclosed to your
friends the strength of the enemy before them, and which made a
34. retirement imperative. That was days ago—days ago; and now they
are back, those British and Indian soldiers, back in Kut-el-Amara,
having carried out an orderly and skilful retreat. Back in Kut, where
my information tells me that they are surrounded."
He left Philip and Geoff with their mouths wide open with
amazement at what they heard, their faces showing first delight at
the prowess of their comrades, and then disappointment at their
enforced retreat, and a greater disappointment that they too were
not beside them to take their share in the fighting.
Yet Benshi did not tell all there was to be told about Asiatic Turkey,
all that had to do with the British and other forces. We have
intimated already in the course of this narrative how a force
employed in one quarter of the world, if sufficiently powerful, may
well affect the fortunes of other troops engaged in a different area
altogether. We told of how the coming of Turkey into this world-
conflict in partnership with Germany and Austria affected the
fortunes of Russia on her European front, because of the need to
hold her Caucasian frontier, and there is no need to enter into details
of the fighting which took place in those mountains, almost in
perpetual snow, where Turks and Russians faced one another. It will
suffice if we say that, well-armed, well-equipped, and officered by
Germans in numerous instances, the army corps which Turkey sent
to the Caucasus at the commencement of hostilities, that is to say,
during the first winter of this widespread warfare, suffered many a
reverse at the hands of the Tsar's gallant soldiers. They failed to
advance, failed to invade southern Russia, and indeed had their work
cut out to prevent the Muscovite armies from invading Asiatic Turkey,
and from pouring down into the land south of the Caucasus range—
land itself some six thousand or more feet in elevation.
Indeed, the country south-west of the Caucasus range is broken up
by innumerable ranges of hills and mountains, and presents large
numbers of upland plateaus. It is the country in which the
unfortunate race of Armenians were fostered, where they have dwelt
for centuries, and on one of those upland plateaus, perched in a
35. situation of natural strength, and defended by forts and gun
emplacements, cunningly designed by German engineers, lies the
city and fortress of Erzerum, the main base of those Turkish armies
operating against the Russians—a fortress deemed impregnable, and
one upon which the Turks and their German masters had placed the
utmost importance. As that British force was fighting its way back to
Kut-el-Amara, and was besieged in that little township on the River
Tigris, the Grand Duke Nicholas of Russia, he who had led the Tsar's
armies into Galicia a year previously, was mustering his forces and
preparing his arrangements for a dash into Armenia—a dash made in
the height of winter, through snow-drifts ten or more feet in depth,
and in an atmosphere well below freezing. Such was the impetus of
that dash, so good and careful were the preparations for it, and so
great the courage and the élan of the armies of the Caucasus that,
in spite of Turkish resistance, in spite of batteries cunningly placed,
in spite of every obstacle, human and natural, the Russians poured
down upon the fortress of Erzerum, and to the amazement of all—of
the Turks and of the Germans, not less than of the others, captured
it, its guns, and a goodly part of its garrison. Then, flooding over this
upland plateau, carving their way westward and south-east, they
rapidly forced their way in the direction of Trebizond—that port on
the Black Sea by which Turkey had reinforced and revictualled her
Caucasian army. To the south-east, Russian troops, in smaller
numbers, pushed along the frontier of Persia, striking towards
Mesopotamia, until patrols of horse and companies of foot were
within measurable distance of Bagdad. Yet they were not near
enough to seize the city, not in sufficient force at present to advance
across the desert, not able, in fact, to lend assistance to the British
force beleaguered in Kut-el-Amara, and to that other force, since
organized, and sent up the River Tigris to relieve it—a force of British
and Indians again, which, willing enough and eager to relieve their
comrades, had, for weary weeks now, been held up by rains and
floods in the country.
A narrative of the incidents of the Mesopotamian operations may be
truthfully said to be one of brilliant actions, of most gallant fighting
36. on the part of our soldiers, and of a display of soldierly virtues which
equalled, if it did not surpass, those fine qualities shown by British
troops in days gone by. This desert warfare was so different from
that which had now fallen upon the armies battling in Flanders
against the Germans. There, in the absence of forts constructed of
masonry as formerly, there was nevertheless a species of fort
running from Switzerland north to Verdun, and running in a north-
westerly direction to the Belgian coast. A fort consisting of muddy
trenches, delved deep in the soil, sheltering hosts of soldiers, and
strengthened and supported in thousands of places by earthworks,
by machine-gun redoubts, and supported in rear by an array of guns
on either side, the number of which had never been seen before,
had never even been nearly equalled in any warfare. But the desert
of Mesopotamia gave opportunity for other fighting. Troops, both
British and Turkish, were not sufficiently numerous to man a line
running right across the country, and thus there was an opportunity
to manœuvre, the chance of outflanking an enemy, and every now
and again an opening for a charge, often enough brilliantly
executed, by the British.
Yet the main line of advance must, because of that desert, of that
arid country, follow the winding channel of the Tigris River, on which
the troops were dependent for their water-supply. And that river
itself was bounded in numerous places by marsh land, which often
enough obstructed the march of troops, and which, in the
neighbourhood of Kut, produced positions similar, on a very small
scale—to those in Flanders and in France; that is to say, just as the
sea bounds that line to the north in France, so marsh land in the
neighbourhood of the Tigris River obstructed the advance of the
British force marching to the relief of the beleaguered garrison at
Kut-el-Amara. They could not easily get round those marshes, for
the need of water held them to the river, and advancing along its
banks they came upon a part where those marshes, coming close
together, left but comparatively narrow space through which they
could make progress, a space deeply trenched by the Turks, and
fortified in similar manner to those trenches in France, held by a
37. numerous and well-armed enemy, flanked by redoubts, and
supported by machine-guns and artillery. A position, indeed, of
formidable strength, more particularly as to outflank it was
impossible, and a frontal attack must be undertaken. Add to these
difficulties atrocious weather—rains which poured upon the British
force, which drenched the men to the skin, bitterly cold rains, which,
stopping at last, left the troops stewing in a watery atmosphere
under a blazing sun, wading knee-deep in a muddy marsh which
covered the country.
Having thus outlined to some small degree the enormous difficulties
of the Mesopotamian force and its gallant conduct so far, we can
now return to Geoff and Philip, and ascertain their fortunes after
that momentous meeting with Esbul, the Armenian.
In the feeble rays cast by the guttering candle suspended above the
old Jew's head there stood, on that memorable evening when Geoff
and his chum reached the city of Bagdad, no more eager individuals,
none more intensely interested in the tale of the prowess of the
British forces, than they.
"And so our men have been quite close to this city, have fought their
way nearly to Bagdad?" said Geoff, his face glowing with
enthusiasm.
"That is so, Excellency," Benshi admitted, his lips hardly moving, his
withered frame bent as he squatted, his eyes still wandering over
the opposite wall as if seeking for something there; "a gallant force
indeed, who struck boldly, and who struck heavily, against the troops
of the Sultan. If their own losses were heavy, those of the Turks
were treble perhaps; while the fact that they were forced to retire is
not to be wondered at, does not take from them honour or credit;
for those troops, handled by German officers, were three, even four,
to one of your people, while the need for water, the lack of it, in
fact, made a retreat—seeing that Bagdad could not be reached—a
matter of urgency. But now, Excellency, you have heard of your
people. They are back in Kut-el-Amara this many a day, besieged
38. there, surrounded, they tell me, holding the enemy at bay, yet too
weak to cut a road through them. Maybe you will join them there,
maybe no; and meanwhile you are in this city, in Bagdad, wherein
not so long ago I had speech with Douglas Pasha. Listen, then, to
the tale Esbul has to tell us. Speak on!" he commanded, turning to
the Armenian.
At once all eyes were cast upon the youthful figure of Esbul, now
squatting on the floor, his face almost as impassive, almost as
inscrutable, as that of Benshi, yet his fingers working, his lips
compressed, and sometimes twitching—indications of the excitement
under which he was labouring.
"Then hear, Master," he began, "hear my tale. This von Hildemaller,
this huge German with the pleasant countenance——"
"Ah!"
Benshi gave vent to a grunt, a grunt which might have expressed
disgust, appreciation, pleasure, anything, in fact, for his features did
not relax, they displayed no sign of his feelings.
"With the pleasant countenance, my master; he who has deceived
so many of us, who carries on the surface smiles which fascinate,
which hide the crafty, cunning, cruel mind behind it. Early in the
morning he came to this city, passing by silent ways to his quarters,
endeavouring to evade notice. Yet Benshi saw him, while I have
since been to those quarters, have clambered about them, have
listened, and now know something of his movements."
"Ah!" it was Geoff's turn to give vent to a grunt of anticipation. "His
movements! Yes," he said eagerly, "they are?"
"Indefinite!" Esbul replied. "Indefinite at present, my master; but so
definite, so promising, that it may well be that you will think fit to
take note of them. He is preparing for a journey outside the city. To-
morrow, as the dusk comes, a conveyance will await him on the road
39. beyond the gates west of Bagdad, and men also—but three of them
—I gathered."
"Hold! Three men you said," Philip blurted out. "Turks, Armenians, or
what? All cut-throats, I guess, in any case."
For a moment Esbul looked puzzled, for though he could speak
English with some fluency the term "cut-throats" was a little foreign
to him. But Geoff hurriedly explained, whereat the Armenian nodded
his head emphatically.
"Murderers, yes!" he said. "One of them the same who drove him
into this city, the one who was to have carried out the murder of
Douglas Pasha."
"And they assemble, where?" asked Geoff, while the two subalterns
exchanged swift glances, as though indeed the same thought had
occurred to both of them.
"As I have said, my master, they assemble with this carriage outside
the western gate of the city, where the German joins them as dusk
is falling."
"And then?" asked Geoff.
"And then, who knows, my master?" said Esbul. "Those who follow
the German and his escort may learn, for though I have striven to
gather news of their destination I have failed completely. But this I
know, it has to do with Douglas Pasha."
As a matter of fact, the crafty Esbul had been even more successful
than he had anticipated, than he could have hoped, considering the
difficulties of the situation. Having clambered over the walls of the
compound which surrounded the quarters in which the German
usually lived, and to which he had returned after that visit to the
prison in which Geoff and Philip had been incarcerated, Esbul, as we
have learned already, had found not a light, not an illuminated chink,
not a sound, nothing to guide him as to whether von Hildemaller
were there or not, or whether he had merely come back to go out
40. again promptly. Yet Esbul was a knowing fellow, and gifted with an
abundance of patience. Passing round the house, he reached a point
where a wall enclosed a small yard within it, and, clambering on this,
was able to reach the roof—a flat affair, on which the owner could
rest and sleep, if need be, in the hot weather. Still, there was no sign
of the German, not a sound to betray his presence. Esbul crept
about the place, peeped over the parapet, laid his ear on the roof,
and yet was baffled. Then, by a lucky chance, he went to the only
chimney of which the place boasted, and, peering down it, saw a
light far below, and heard voices. More than that, he found soon
enough, or rather guessed, that this chimney was merely a ventilator
for some chamber in which people were talking, in which von
Hildemaller, without doubt, was seated. More startling still was the
discovery that sounds were accentuated by the chimney, were
gathered together as it were, and were delivered to his ear louder,
perhaps, than when uttered by those far below him. In that way,
then, by a mere stroke of luck, by a fortunate chance, more
fortunate perhaps than his accidental meeting with Geoff and Philip
that night, the Armenian had unearthed the secrets of the German.
There was silence in the tiny room beneath the guttering candle for
some few minutes, while two busy brains were hard at work piecing
up the information given them, concocting plans, and seeking for
measures to outwit von Hildemaller. Two busy brains, we have said,
though no doubt Esbul's wits were sharpened. As for Benshi, he still
sat on his divan, his eyes wandering over the opposite wall, his face
—long, thin, ascetic, and angular—with not an expression on it. He
might have been a wooden figure for all they knew, a silent,
thoughtless figure. And yet the old man had already given
indications of possessing unusual wisdom and acumen—of
possessing, indeed, uncanny powers of looking into the future. It
was he, in fact, who first broke that silence, and who, in the most
amazing manner, seemed to have divined the very thoughts of Geoff
and Philip.
41. He actually gave vent to a feeble chuckle, looked up suddenly at the
spluttering candle, and then across at the two disguised subalterns.
Indeed, he treated them to quite a long inspection—something
strangely rare in the case of the Jew—an inspection which took in
every feature, their dusty, dishevelled appearance, their borrowed
clothes, and the transformation they had made with them.
"It is well, it is well, my masters!" he said at last, and his voice was
positively cheerful. "It is well, this scheme of yours, this plan that
you have been formulating. Listen, Esbul! To-morrow evening, as the
dusk falls, a conveyance will be waiting outside the western gate of
this city for the German known as von Hildemaller. This German
hound will stride through the streets of the city, will push his way
past the sentries, will browbeat any who may dare to stand before
him, and will plump himself in this conveyance. Then he will be
driven off, driven to a destination which I do not know, which I have
sought for months past, driven, you tell us—and I can easily believe
it—to the prison which holds my old friend Douglas Pasha. And then,
my masters, let us take closer heed of the three who accompany this
ruffian—of the one who drives the conveyance, and of those other
two who, mounted on animals, ride beside it. Let me whisper a
secret to you, a secret undreamt by the German, unsuspected by
him, a secret which must be kept relentlessly from this German.
That man who drives the vehicle is not the rascal ready to cut a
throat for but a small reward, eager to slay even his best friend so
that he may claim the gold of the German; no, my masters, it is
Esbul, this Armenian youth who owes almost as much to Douglas
Pasha as I do."
Geoff glanced swiftly across at the Armenian, and noticed, with
something akin to amazement, that Esbul showed no sign of
astonishment at the words he had heard, seemed, indeed, to have
known the part he was to take even before Benshi had spoken,
seemed to know it, in fact, just as well as he, Geoff, knew it, and
doubtless as well as Philip also. The thing was positively uncanny,
yet so simple, so calmly put before him, that he could hardly wonder
42. —though when he pondered later it made him exclaim, as he
realized how successful the Jew had been at divining his own
thoughts and feelings.
"It is so, Benshi. I shall be on that conveyance," said Esbul, when a
few moments had passed; "and beside me will be those two
mounted men escorting the German."
"And they, Esbul, can you guess who they will be?" asked Philip,
Geoff in the meanwhile having hurriedly interpreted Benshi's words
to him.
"I can, my master. The one will be Keith Pasha, the other yourself.
The thing must be done swiftly and quietly, done now, for here is an
opportunity to outwit the German, the only opportunity, perhaps,
which will come our way."
That such a plan might easily undermine any which the German had
made, and outwit him and utterly fog him, seemed possible enough,
though there were other matters to be considered. Supposing Geoff
and his friends were able to take the place of those three men, as
seemed already to have been decided, there would be the journey
with the German in their company to some destination unknown;
then what then? Would there follow a meeting with Douglas Pasha?
Or could it be that Esbul had been mistaken, and von Hildemaller
about to journey on some other business altogether? Yet it was a
chance worth taking, an opportunity in a thousand, one which
demanded instant action.
Long into the night they sat in that room, with Benshi motionless
before them, interjecting a word now and again, giving them advice,
foretelling movements in the most uncanny and inscrutable manner.
Then, wearied with their discussion, tired out after their long
journey, Geoff and his friend lay down to sleep, and doubtless the
Jew and Esbul retired also, though the two young subalterns were
ignorant of the fact, for hardly had their heads touched the flooring
when they were fast asleep and snoring.
43. The following day, however, found them alert and brisk and eager to
be moving. Having eaten their full, and donned the clothing which
Esbul brought for them—for a visit to the Bazaar had easily procured
suitable raiment—the three young men passed out into the open
street and wandered slowly in the direction of the house occupied by
von Hildemaller. Stationing themselves at different points of vantage,
they waited with what patience they could summon, and watched
carefully for signs of the German and his followers. And when some
hours had passed, and their patience was almost exhausted—when,
indeed, in the case of Philip, that excellent young fellow was
positively stamping with vexation—Geoff sent along a whistle—the
signal agreed upon—and was observed a moment later to be
following three men, who had appeared, it seemed, from nowhere,
in the street, and were wending their way along it. In the wake of
Geoff came another figure, slimmer than he—the figure of Esbul,
dressed as a Bazaar porter, carrying a box on his head, slowly
making his way over the cobbles, and behind him Philip fell in
promptly, looking just as much a ruffian as Esbul, and as if he were
following with a view of assisting him with his burden. In that order,
showing no haste, keeping a considerable distance between
themselves and the men who had issued from the German's house,
Geoff and his comrade made their way through the heart of Bagdad,
down cobbled, ragged streets, through narrow alleys, across
courtyards littered with garbage, and so on till they approached the
outskirts of the city, those walls which had been erected to keep out
the barbarians.
It was at that point that the three men in advance halted and looked
craftily about them; then they suddenly dived through an open
archway and disappeared from view, leaving Geoff and his friends a
little staggered.
"Come along," he cried, for Esbul and Philip had by now drawn quite
close to him. "After them as quick as you can, or we may lose them.
Keep close together, and carry the matter through as we promised."
44. Dashing along the street, they reached the archway within a few
seconds, and, diving into the stone passage to which it gave access,
raced through it and across a courtyard even dirtier than any they
had passed before. There was not a soul in sight, not a voice to be
heard, and it looked at first as if they had missed the men they were
following. Then Geoff pointed to a doorway, held his hand up for
silence for just half a minute, and later, without a word, turned and
threw himself at the aperture.
45. CHAPTER XX
Success at Last
Dusk was falling over the city of Bagdad, that ancient city situated
astride the River Tigris, which, if it could tell tales at all, could tell of
ancient peoples, of past history of surpassing interest, of deeds and
doings which would enthral all people. How many thousands of
times must dusk have settled upon this ancient spot, and clad the
gilded roofs of minarets and towers just as it was doing on this
evening. How often, too, must figures precisely similar to those
which now wended their way through its narrow and tortuous
streets have passed over, perhaps, even the very same cobbles,
hundreds of years before; maybe there was no difference even in
their dress, in the raiment of those people of former days and in that
donned now by the inhabitants of the city. Certainly no three less
conspicuous people ever passed down the main street which runs
towards the Western Gate than those three who emerged from the
narrow courtyard into which Geoff and his comrades had dashed.
One was mounted on the driving-seat of that same rickety chaise
which had conveyed the cunning von Hildemaller to the city; while
two others, ill-kempt yet well-set-up fellows, were astride stout
Turkish ponies.
"Who goes?" the sentry at the gates challenged.
"A party, towards the west, in the service of one who is a friend of
the Governor.
"One who is a friend of the Governor. Ho, ho!" the sergeant of the
guard answered flippantly, as if he doubted the words. "Halt, there!
Declare yourselves! Who is the high and mighty individual who is a
friend of the one who commands our services?"
46. He stepped rapidly forward, while one of his men, at a signal from
him, leapt into the centre of the road where it passed through the
gates and barred the way with his bayonet.
"How now! By Allah; this is a strange saying that you have given us,
'a friend of the Governor?' One who walks in high places and yet
employs such scarecrows? Who are you?"
The sergeant halted beside the driver of the carriage, and at the
same time seized the reins of one of the ponies; then the driver of
the rickety chaise bent over towards him, looked suspiciously at the
sentry, and, bending lower, whispered in the sergeant's ear.
"Fool!" he said; "do you wish to harm even your own Governor?
Must you then make a scene at the very gates of the city and so
disclose his purposes? Listen a moment. Doubtless you have been
on guard at this gate on many an occasion, and doubtless, too, you
know of men of whom it may be said with justice that they walk in
high places—even in the palace of the Governor. Then, if that is so,
you will know of von Hildemaller."
Instantly the Turkish sergeant looked up at the driver with a startled,
if not frightened, expression on his face.
"That man!" he exclaimed, "but surely——"
"S—s—h, no 'buts'," the driver of the chaise murmured in warning
tones. "Pass us out without further ado, for it would be ill for you if I
were to report to my master that I was delayed here at the gate,
and that the Governor's purpose was defeated."
"Stand aside there! Pass without. Go on your way, friends, and may
Allah bless you!"
In a moment the sergeant's purpose had been entirely altered, the
mention of the Turkish governor, and of von Hildemaller's name,
having acted like magic, and at once the driver, who had cautioned
the man in stage whispers, so mysteriously in fact, sat upright,
gripped his reins again, and whipped up his sorry pony; while those
47. two who straddled their ponies beside him dug their heels into their
mounts, the three clattering over the cobbles between the gates,
and passing out into the gathering darkness. A quarter of an hour
later they pulled up about half a mile beyond the gates and waited
for their passenger.
"Phew!" exclaimed one of the trio, sliding from the rather
uncomfortable saddle of the animal he was riding; "that was a near
one as we were coming through the gates. Of course I couldn't
understand a word of what was being said, but that sergeant fellow
looked nasty. And, Geoff, what a scrimmage!"
"Scrimmage? Oh!"
"Yes, of course. In that yard and in that stable. Glad you downed
that fellow who, Esbul tells us, was the leading ruffian hired by von
Hildemaller."
Geoff dropped from his pony at that precise moment, slung the reins
over his arm, and entered into conversation with his companions. He
felt very gay-hearted and unusually cheerful, and, moreover, he had
enjoyed every bit of that scrimmage to which Philip had referred,
and even the scene at the gate, which at one moment had looked so
threatening.
Let us explain that the coming of dusk had provided another
adventure for our hero and his friends, an adventure filled with
strenuous movement—an encounter, in fact, where the numbers
were equally divided, and where victory, therefore, was all the more
pleasing. Dashing in through that aperture which led from the yard
into which they had traced those three in the pay of von Hildemaller,
Geoff had found himself in a big tumble-down stable, in one corner
of which a chaise stood, while three animals were haltered near it.
The three men, who, unsuspicious of the fact that they were
followed, had entered the place but a few minutes before, were at
that very moment about to throw off the halters from these animals
and prepare them for a journey. Then, hearing footsteps at the door,
48. and seeing figures enter it, they turned, and, realizing at once that
the intruders were likely to prove unfriendly, they dashed towards
them, one of the men drawing a knife, while the taller ruffian—he
who was von Hildemaller's right-hand man—snatched a revolver
from his belt. It was at that precise moment that Geoff dealt the
blow which had delighted Philip. Lunging forward, he struck the man
with his clenched fist, knocking him backwards till the fellow's head
came violently against a beam which supported the roof timbers.
Nor was Philip behindhand in helping his comrades and in joining in
the attack. He had no time in which to select his man or to make
special preparations; but, leaning forward, he threw himself upon
one of them, gripped him in his arms, and wrestled with him. As for
Esbul, he was just in time to ward off a stroke launched at his heart
by the man who had drawn the knife; quick as thought, he gripped
the wrist and arrested the blow, and, with equal swiftness, clasped
his other hand over the fist which gripped the weapon, and suddenly
jerked the man's arm backward. Bump! The elbow struck the wall
behind with a nasty jar, and forced the fellow's grip to loosen. What
followed was done in a flash, was done with such swiftness that
Geoff failed to observe what had happened, for Esbul had the knife
in his own hand in a moment and had plunged it to the hilt in the
body of the ruffian.
"Now, let's tie this other fellow up," Geoff had said, seeing that Philip
had firm hold of the man he had tackled; "slip one of the ropes off
this halter, and let's secure him to one of the mangers."
Wiping the blade of the knife he had secured upon the clothing of
his victim, Esbul calmly stepped across the stable to where the
animals were standing, and returned within two minutes with a
length of rope which was amply sufficient for their purpose. Indeed,
within five minutes, the third of the German's hirelings was bound
hand and foot and tied securely to one of the mangers. Then Geoff
bent over the man he had struck, and who, meanwhile, had made
no movement.
49. "Dead, Master," Esbul told him, kneeling upon the floor. "The blow
you struck was a strong one, and his head, coming with such
violence against the wooden beam, was cracked. No longer will he
do the bidding of von Hildemaller."
The end of those three whom the two subalterns and the Armenian
had tracked so silently and so skilfully had indeed been as tragic as it
was sudden, and the first part of the scheme to outwit the German
had ended most successfully. No time was lost after that, and the
animals were hurriedly harnessed and saddled and taken out into
the yard.
"You'll drive the chaise," Geoff told Esbul, a note of authority in his
voice; "and you'll just keep your mouth shut, Philip."
"Right oh!" came from that hopeful.
"Then march! We can leave this fellow who's tied up to the manger
without much fear of his creating an alarm. Even if he shouts, I
doubt if anyone will hear him; but no doubt he will have his own
reasons for keeping quiet, and for trusting for release to some
chance comer."
Then they had moved away from the yard, had passed down one of
those narrow winding streets which intersect the city, and had finally
gained the main street which led to the western gate.
"And now, all we want is our dear friend von Hildemaller," declared
Philip. "He was to come at dusk, Esbul—that's what you said; you're
sure?"
"Certain, Master. If you have any doubts, but think for a moment.
The tale I told was that three hirelings were to await the German
outside the western gate of the city, one driving a rickety chaise and
two mounted. Then consider for an instant: we who went out to
track these men, who watched outside von Hildemaller's quarters,
saw three men emerge, followed three men, tracked them to the
west of this city, tracked them, indeed, into a stable where a chaise
50. was waiting and three horses. Is not that, then, proof sufficient of
the truth of the tale I have told? Does it not lead one to feel sure
that the rest of the plan will follow?"
"S—s—h, shut up! Get into your place, Esbul. Climb on to your pony,
Philip; and don't forget—not a word. I can hear someone coming."
They had drawn up the chaise just beside the road, and were
standing on the soft ground which bordered it. The road itself was
so covered in dust that there, too, steps were hardly audible; yet the
heavy tread of a man approaching now reached their ears, and a
little later the deep breathing of one using much exertion. Then,
when a few minutes had passed, a ponderous figure came into view
through the gathering darkness—a figure which grunted and panted,
which could have belonged to no other than the German.
"Ach, it is there!" they heard him say in his own language. "It is well,
for I am tired, and this dust and the heat exhaust me."
Coming up to the chaise, he looked swiftly at the figures of the three
men near it and clambered ponderously into it.
"You came direct here without attracting attention, eh?" he asked
peremptorily of one of the figures mounted on a pony—of Philip, in
fact, for the subaltern happened to be nearest. "Come, answer! You
attracted no attention!"
He was speaking in Turkish now—execrable Turkish, with a strong
flavour of German accent about it, and yet a language unknown to
Philip. What was he to do? Attempt an answer or remain silent?
Either might easily warn the German that all was not as it should be,
and then a way out of the difficulty occurred to him. Philip opened
his mouth as if to answer von Hildemaller, and immediately bent
double over the neck of the animal he was riding and commenced to
cough violently, as if he had caught his breath, or as if the cloud of
dust which the German's heavy feet had stirred had almost choked
him.
51. "Bah! Then you answer the question."
The words were shot at the other horseman, and received an instant
answer.
"Master, all is well. We passed through the gate without creating
suspicion. There is none who knows of our coming."
"Then drive on," commanded the German to the man seated on the
box of the vehicle; "drive on at once."
"But where, where, Master?"
"Where? Ah, I had forgotten that you were ignorant of the place to
which I am going. Straight on till I give you an order to turn; the
place is some ten miles distant."
Never in all the course of their lives would Geoffrey, Keith, and Philip
forget that journey—that journey, that slow, tedious journey over the
rough road leading from the western gate of Bagdad, a journey
occupying perhaps two hours and a half, a period which appeared to
their eager, anxious minds like an eternity. They were tingling with
excitement, with expectation, and with impatience. In spite of the
many adventures through which they had passed, of the many tight
places in which they had found themselves, this undoubtedly was
the most trying of all their experiences; for at any moment the
German might discover the ruse, might find out that the three who
surrounded him were not his hirelings, and might defeat the efforts
made to outwit him. Even his heavy breathing, his lolling head, and
the fact that he was dozing, hardly helped to minimize the tension of
the situation.
"Ah, a building ahead of us, I think!" Geoff whispered to himself,
when, having traversed the main road for some eight miles, and
turned to the left at von Hildemaller's bidding, they had made their
way over a side-track which was indescribably rough and trying; "a
building ahead of us. Looks like a big fortress; perhaps it's a prison."
52. He gave vent to a loud cough, so as to awaken the German, and
then once more fixed his eyes on the dull shape he had seen in the
distance. As for von Hildemaller, he awoke with a start, and,
standing up with difficulty, and setting the rickety chaise swinging,
he too peered ahead, and then, making out that distant shape,
uttered a hoarse chuckle.
"The place! We are there, or almost so. Good!" Geoff heard him
mutter. "Pull up at the main gate," von Hildemaller commanded
Esbul. "Now, that will do! You will wait here till I come out again,
and you will know what to do, for we have already discussed the
matter. Wait, though, I will repeat my instructions: there will be a
man with me, a man who will be tied hand and foot, a mere log, of
no danger to any one of us. I shall join him in the chaise, and you
will drive off immediately. A mile down the road which we have just
covered you will halt, for that will be sufficiently far, and voices, even
screams, will not be heard over such a distance. You will halt, and
then—and then——"
Esbul swung his head round and bent towards the German.
"And then, Master," he whispered, "the matter will be ended as you
have already ordered."
"Good! You understand, then? There's no fear of an error being
made, no fear of your becoming chicken-hearted, for we shall be
alone—four of us—with this one man, and he tied hand and foot,
remember, tied hand and foot," the German repeated, giving vent to
a ghastly chuckle. "No fear of a blow, no fear of his struggling even,
no chance of his breaking loose. If he screams——Ah, well, you have
heard screams before, and they will not unman you. You are ready?"
"Ready, Master," Esbul told him in that soft voice of his. "Ready, and
willing."
Again the chaise rolled and rocked as the German stepped to the
side of it and gained the ground. Waddling towards the prison, he
ascended the stone steps which led to the doorway, and banged
53. heavily upon the wall. Perhaps five minutes later, steps were heard
within, the door was opened, and, having parleyed for a while, von
Hildemaller entered, and the door closed instantly.
"Now, round with the chaise, and make ready. Good heavens!"
exclaimed Geoff, only at this moment beginning to grasp the sinister
designs of the German. "Did ever one listen to such a scoundrel? A
bound man is to be brought out to us, we are to halt a mile down
the road, a mile down it, Philip, at such a distance that screams may
not be heard by the people in this prison, the bound man will be so
securely fastened that he cannot even struggle for his life, and
there, in cold blood, he is to be finished. You realize the plan? Its
cold-blooded cruelty? You realize the frightful act that this von
Hildemaller contemplates?"
For a few moments there was silence between them, and then a
gasp almost of pain from Philip, a gasp of amazement, of horror, and
of anger. Usually light-hearted, flippant in fact, his voice now, when
he spoke, was grave, was trembling with passion.
"A fellow wouldn't kill a mad dog under such conditions," he said
bitterly, "and yet this von Hildemaller chuckles. What'll you do?"
"Do!" There was an ominous ring about the answer. "Do!" repeated
Geoff sternly; "can you ask that question, Philip? Now, listen: you'll
cut this prisoner loose, you'll leave von Hildemaller to me. That's
understood?"
"Distinctly."
"Then, silence; at any moment the door may open."
Yet minutes dragged along, slow, tense minutes, during which they
waited for the reappearance of the German; waited, indeed, until
they began to fear lest he would never return, lest he had avoided
them; to fear that he had guessed what was happening, had
suspected the three men who had accompanied him upon this
journey, and was sheltering himself within the prison. So long did he
54. remain, in fact, that Philip at length felt positive that the cunning
Teuton had indeed outwitted them; while Geoff, a prey to all sorts of
fears, was positively trembling with excitement. And then, of a
sudden, when they had almost given up hope, when it seemed that
all their plans had failed, and that their efforts had resulted in
nothing, steps were heard within the prison—heavy steps—
approaching the door, and at length the latter opened. A minute
later more steps reached their ears, the heavy blowing of an
individual, his panting in fact, followed by the appearance of von
Hildemaller, his ponderous figure almost hidden in the darkness, yet
sufficiently illuminated by the rays from some very distant lamp to
leave no doubt of his coming.
Doubt indeed! No illumination was needed where this German was
concerned, for even if his figure were invisible the man's heavy
breathing, his ponderous footsteps were sufficient indication of his
presence.
"Good—good—good!" Geoff heard him saying, chuckling in fact. "He
is tied hand and foot, this fellow. What a thing it is to be a friend of
the Governor of Bagdad. A friend indeed! He, he! One who can take
him by the elbow, as it were, can whisper things into his ear, and
can force him to do one's bidding. Bring the man along and throw
him into the chaise.
"But—but—wait, go gently, for the vehicle is old and rickety enough.
In with him."
Men were struggling down the steps of the prison, four men at least,
who carried a bundle between them, which they bore towards the
carriage. Lifting their burden with some difficulty, they pushed it on
to the seat, thrust it well to one side, and then retreated hastily, as if
they were ashamed of what they had been doing. A second later,
indeed, the door of the prison was banged to, those distant rays of
light were cut off, and the German and his three hirelings and the
bundle in the carriage were left alone in the darkness, at liberty at
last to depart on their journey.
55. "Good! Better than ever! Things could not have gone more
smoothly," Geoff heard von Hildemaller chuckling again, as he
waddled towards the chaise, and, mounting into it, depressed its
springs considerably. He sat himself down with a bump beside the
bundle resting there, and gave a peremptory order to the driver:
"Move on," he panted; "drive fast, but pull up as we arranged when
you have covered the distance. Bah! How that note from the
Governor cowed the Turk in command of the prison. When this
fellow beside me realized what was before him, I saw him squirm;
he would have thrown himself upon me had he been able, and had
his guards not surrounded him; but he's here—here—beside me, and
as helpless as a log, as near his end as ever a man was."
The wretch gave vent to a hideous, wheezy chuckle, a chuckle which
made Geoff's blood boil and his ears tingle as he listened; for by
then he was riding quite close to the chaise, within two feet of that
silent bundle, within easy hearing of the German, so near in fact was
he that a moment later he heard, rather than saw, the bundle
moving, wriggling upon the seat on which it had been deposited,
and heard an instant growl escape the German.
"Ach! So you are alife, are you?" von Hildemaller hissed into the ear
of his wretched prisoner. "So, Douglas Pasha, I haff you at last,
securely, away from interference of the Turks, my prisoner, to do
with as I will. Now, listen awhile, for I haff a few sweet words to say
to you; and you, Douglas Pasha, haff little time on this earth in
which to hear them."
The bundle stirred again, and, bending low, Geoff heard inarticulate
sounds coming from it, sounds which suggested that the prisoner
was securely gagged, and, indeed, was almost fighting for his
breath. As he bent, too, he was so near to von Hildemaller that he
could almost have touched the ruffian, and found it a hard task
indeed to keep his hands off him; for by now every drop of blood in
Geoff's manly body was boiling with rage, and he was trembling with
eagerness for the moment to arrive when he might release his
guardian. And then von Hildemaller's voice was heard again,
56. subdued and venomous, his words coming in an angry hiss through
those extensive lips of his, which had deceived so many people.
"Listen, Douglas Pasha," he began again; "you wonder why I, a
German, should hate you so, should track you down, should haff you
here beside me and be carrying you away from your prison for one
purpose only, that purpose to rid the world of you! Well, I will
explain. For you, personally, I haff no great objection, except that
you are an Englishman. But you are an obstacle; for years you haff
been an obstacle in my path—in the path of Germany. But for you
the aims of my Emperor would haff been prosecuted with far greater
success amongst these people, and Germany would haff obtained a
greater hold over the Turks and their country. It was you who put a
stop to that, who set our efforts at naught, who balked every move I
made, and defeated us on every side. In those days before the war I
did my best to get rid of you, and when the war came I again did
my best to rid the country of a man who was in every sense an
enemy to Germany. Yet again you outwitted me, till a day arrived
when I was able to arrange for your capture. Even then you were
too strong for me, you and your friends; they protected you, saved
you, and kept you in security until this very moment. And
meanwhile, having been beaten by you and your friends in every
effort, I was beaten also by that ward of yours—one Geoffrey Keith
—who came to this country."
The bundle moved again, the rickety, rattling chaise creaked and
swayed as the prisoner struggled. A stifled growl came from the
bundle, and then there was silence.
"Yes, Geoffrey Keith and another came to this country—your ward
and a friend of his came—and were captured and thrown into prison.
Now listen still further, Douglas Pasha. For the moment you were
secure, and I, who had a grudge against you and aimed at your
death, could find no other means of injuring you than through these
two young fellows. I made plans to get them safely into my hands,
when, seeing that they are enemies of Germany, I should have made
an end of them; but they defeated me just as you had done,
57. defeated me entirely. That left you alone to deal with, till the time
arrives when those two are again captured. It is but a matter of two
or three days since they broke loose from their prison, and surely
within a little while the Turks will haff them, and I too shall be able
to reward them for the trick they haff played upon me. Fear not,
Douglas Pasha! For your ward shall come to the same end as you in
a little time. Before the week is passed, perhaps, he may be riding in
this chaise, tied into a helpless bundle just as you are, jogging on to
his death. You understand? To his death, just as you are jogging
now. You understand, Douglas Pasha?"
The voice was raised by then to a shrill shriek, while the German
was trembling with passion—trembling with triumph and with
anticipation of the moment so closely approaching. Little wonder
that Geoff, riding so close, could hardly remain on his pony, that the
perspiration was dropping from his forehead, and that his breath
was coming in little gasps. Those minutes which passed, as they
sauntered along the dusty road, were a purgatory, were almost
insupportable, and were indescribably long. But at length, having by
then driven perhaps a mile from the prison, Esbul suddenly pulled up
his horse, and the whole party came to a halt at the side of the
road, just as the German had commanded.
"And now," called von Hildemaller, struggling from the chaise to the
road, "lift the ruffian out, pull the gag out of his mouth, and slit his
throat."
Geoff slid from his pony almost before the chaise had come to a
rest, and, dropping his reins, stepped swiftly up beside the German.
Esbul clambered from the driving-seat of the carriage and leaned
over the bundle which von Hildemaller had secured from the prison,
while Philip, himself a prey to tremendous excitement, dismounted,
and ran forward.
"Cut the Major loose," Geoff shouted; "you can leave this murdering
rascal to me entirely."
58. There were sounds of scuffling in the darkness, clouds of choking
dust arose and smothered every member of the party, while a
scream escaped from the throat of one of them—a scream of terror.
Then silence followed, and within a few seconds a sound of a man
struggling, heavy breathing, and then a dull thud.
Geoff scrambled into the chaise and sat beside the bundle—now
released—and, stretching out one of those strong hands of his,
gripped the hand of Douglas Pasha. Esbul clambered into the
driving-seat again, while Philip mounted his pony, and, taking the
reins of the other, moved to the back of the carriage.
"Go on!" commanded Geoff huskily; "drive on to the main road, and
then towards Bagdad."
A moment later he had turned towards the prisoner whom they had
rescued, still gripping his hand, and hurriedly explained matters to
him. The meeting in the carriage was indeed a most dramatic affair,
so unexpected, indeed, that Douglas Pasha was at first almost
speechless, and then almost hysterical after the trying experience he
had passed through. As for Esbul, Geoff, and Philip, they were so
elated, so excited, and so delighted at what had happened that they
babbled like children, and could scarcely speak coherently. Indeed it
was the Major who regained his self-possession first, and began to
cross-examine his rescuers; and at last he asked a final question:
"This German—this von Hildemaller," he asked; "what happened to
him?"
"Yes, what happened to him?" Philip chimed in eagerly, as he
clattered along beside the carriage.
"Don't ask," replied Geoff, with a curtness which was unusual in him.
"He's dead. I killed him."
And dead von Hildemaller was. Huddled in a heap in the dust, in the
midst of the road behind, at the very spot where he had intended to
murder Douglas Pasha. Retribution had indeed found this odious,
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