"Well," said I, "you cannot return there now. You must take me to the city first, and when you return with a bag full of kerans, all your friends will be pleased with you."
"How many kerans did you say, Beg?" asked the old man.
"How many do you want?" I asked.
"Twenty," said he, evidently asking twice as much as he expected to get.
"Then," said I, "you shall have twenty when we reach the city, and if we pass under the bridge ere the sun has risen to-morrow morning, you shall have thirty."
The fisherman's face was radiant with joy at the prospect of such a haul.
"When will you start?" he asked.
"Now, at once, as quickly as possible," I replied.
"It is good," said he, plunging in his paddle with a will, and making the circular tub swing from side to side.
We were soon out in the current, and travelling at a fair speed. Never had I been in such a blissful state of contentment and ease, as I lay curled round at the bottom of the boat, with my eyes just looking over the edge. We passed other fishermen, and here and there a village; but the paddler kept to his course, and paid no attention to anything except the business in hand. I was too excited to sleep; moreover, I thoroughly enjoyed the river scene, and delighted in the verdure of the banks, which I found a pleasant relief to my eyes, nearly burnt out of my head by the perpetual glare of the desert. By sunset we had accomplished much; and soon after dusk the old man made known to me that the thirty kerans were as good as his; we should certainly reach the bridge before daylight.
Hour after hour of the dark night we continued our voyage; and it was still dark when the Arab ceased paddling, and, turning half round, whispered, "See, the city is at hand."
I strained my eyes, and peered into the darkness; before long, I could see the tops of the buildings outlined against the sky; and my heart almost stopped beating. It all seemed too good to be true. Yet, there they were. There could be no mistake. Then I distinctly heard the swish of the water at the bridge, and day was just breaking as we swept under it. All was silent; Baghdad was still sleeping. I knew a landing-place, a little below the Residency, and thither I directed the paddler to take his kufa. A moment later he jumped ashore, and hauled up the boat.
It was but a step to Edwards's house, and bidding my friend follow me, I dragged my stiff limbs up the steep pathway. I reached the gateway and hammered on the barred door; but, before it was opened, I dropped senseless to the ground.
CHAPTER XXVI
A HAVEN OF REST.
Of what happened after this I have no recollection whatever, and it was not until many days later that I was in a fit state to be told anything.
Then my good friend George Edwards doled out scraps of news in a niggardly manner, and refused to allow me to do much talking. He, however, set my mind at rest on one point. He himself had removed the Golden Girdle from my body, and it had been locked up in the Residency safe.
In the course of time I learned everything, and I had much to hear, though not more than I had to tell the Consul-General and Edwards, who, as I became convalescent, spent many hours of each day sitting with me.
I had not yet been allowed to see the Girdle, I supposed because my doctor thought that the sight of it might upset me; and he confessed to me afterwards that, for a long time, he had doubted whether the shock that I had evidently received would not permanently affect my reason.
Strange as it may seem, I had no immediate wish to see the thing. I felt that I was afraid to look at it. It might not really be what I imagined--the true Golden Girdle of the Great Queen. I asked Edwards to describe it, but he told me that he had hardly examined it, as the Consul-General had locked it up at once, and would not allow it to be taken out of the safe until I should be well enough to inspect it with him. That it was the Golden Girdle, Edwards affirmed, there could be no doubt whatever. He had seen enough to be certain on that point.
"What became of the boatman who brought me down here, and saved my life?" I asked. "You have never mentioned him."
"Well," said Edwards, "I will tell you all about it. I was sleeping peacefully, when my boy rushed up on to the roof, and nearly upset my bed in his eagerness to wake me. He told me a garbled tale, about two men having come to the door; that one of the men was dead, and that the other man said that the dead man was an Ingleezee whom he had found in the river. So I bolted down, and heard what the old Arab had to say, and then I overhauled you, and you can imagine my astonishment when I eventually discovered who you were. You had been reported as drowned weeks before, we had had courts of inquiry about it all; and had wired and written home to your people. The whole thing was a mystery, especially when I learned that the boatman had found you miles above Baghdad, and you were supposed to have been drowned on the way down to Bussorah. However, as I found that you were not actually dead, I had you carried indoors, and we soon took your clothes off. Then I came across the gold belt, and I knew that you had been at that desperate game again; so I sent off to the Consul-General, asking him to come round as quickly as possible. He nearly had a fit, and it was a long time before he could believe his eyes. After a bit, he went off with the belt and your boatman, and having investigated the matter thoroughly, paid the old man the thirty kerans which he said you had promised him, and gave him another five as bakhshish."
"He deserved every penny of it," said I; "for, if it had not been for him, I should never have seen Baghdad again."
"There you are right," said Edwards. "You ran things about as close as possible, and you may thank your stars that you tumbled across the fisherman when you did."
The next matter of interest which Edwards related to me was the fate of the unfortunate Kellner. I had told him what I had heard from Daud about his death, but I was surprised to hear that Edwards himself had been with Kellner when he died. Just after I was supposed to have been drowned, the Turkish Governor at Hillah had sent word to say that the German in his hospital was thought to be dying, and that he had expressed a wish to see me or Edwards, or both of us if possible. The Consul-General sent Edwards off to Hillah at once, with a small escort, and when he reached the place, he found Kellner still alive, though in a state of collapse. He lived, however, for another three days, during which time Edwards remained with him continuously, and received from his lips his dying confession--for by no other name can it be called. It was a wretched story, and I was really sorry for the poor fellow. As far as daring and pluck went, if anyone deserved to succeed, he certainly did; but, of course, he had been ill-advised.
From what he told Edwards--and he was most anxious to tell him all--it seems that he was in the employ of a South African millionaire, who was a great collector, and who, in some way, had got possession of my uncle's secret. Kellner, much to his credit, refused to tell the name of his employer, but he made a clean breast of everything else. As I had imagined when I came across him at the Birs Nimroud, he had been put on to my track from the very beginning, and, when I thought of it all, I was astounded at the cunning of the man. In one way and another he had got an immense amount of information out of me during the voyage, and before we reached Baghdad he had made himself acquainted with the contents of all my papers. In one matter I was greatly interested: Kellner and I had jumped together at the document relating to Shahzadi's shoe; but he had an advantage over me, in that his employer had given him instructions to seek out the Jew Mersina, take him into his confidence, make him his agent, and promise him a large reward. Money was to be no object; the Girdle was to be obtained at any cost.
Kellner found Yusuf Mersina the very man for his purpose, a man with a rapid brain, who weighed the pros and cons of everything carefully, and who, having once formed his plans, never hesitated. Now, the Jew had spies and friends all over the country, and as soon as he heard of the paper about Shahzadi's shoe, and the defunct Munshi of Kerbela, he decided to take Kellner to that town, and see what could be discovered there. They were in Kerbela some days before Edwards and I had started from Baghdad; and Mersina went straight to the Hindu astrologer, whom Daud subsequently consulted. Mersina was an old client, and always paid well for information and advice, so the astrologer received him with open arms. He did not, however, altogether like having anything to do with the Golden Girdle, the history of which was well known to him; but, after a time, he confessed that he knew where it was, though, as the secret was his own and his alone, it would require much money to purchase it. In the end, terms were agreed upon: a goodly sum down, and a still larger sum if the Girdle were secured. Kellner was astonished to hear that it was no longer buried, but, as Mersina told him that the astrologer never lied, he was forced to believe what he said.
The next step was to open up communications with the Seer of Katib, who, according to the astrologer, possessed the Girdle. He himself had had a quarrel with the seer, and could not, therefore, communicate with him; but there happened to be in Kerbela at that time a Bedouin sheik, who, if paid adequately, would doubtless be able to obtain the Girdle. This sheik was the Shammar Abbas-ibn-Mirshid, and Kellner and Mersina were soon introduced to him. After matters had been satisfactorily arranged, Mersina returned to Baghdad, and Kellner became the guest of Abbas, accompanying him to his temporary camp near Babil. Kellner now confided in Abbas, and told him about me, and how important it was that I should be balked in my attempt to obtain the Girdle, explaining that he thought it quite possible that I might know that Raspul had it. Abbas decided to watch the Baghdad road and to check my progress, but as Kellner refused to allow him to do me any bodily harm, he contented himself with the theft of my money, under the impression that that would be sufficient to delay me. Why he did not wait to see the result Kellner did not say, but, apparently, they thought it best to get away in the direction of the ruins of Katib as quickly as possible.
What happened after this I knew, or had guessed correctly. Raspul had agreed to sell the Girdle to Abbas for two thousand kerans, and to bring it to a certain place at a certain time. But Faris upset all their plans by overwhelming the Shammar and killing Abbas. All this Edwards and I had heard from Daud, and Kellner threw very little fresh light on the events that followed. He maintained, however, that when he rode away with the Girdle, he was unaccountable for his actions. He was under the delusion that the Shammar intended to murder him, and when he found himself pursued, he felt bound to defend himself with his revolver. The terrible privations that he underwent from that time until he found himself at the Birs Nimroud put all my own experiences in the shade, and, as I listened to Edwards, I could not help wondering why my luck should have been so good and Kellner's so bad. It would appear that he never heard that Mersina had played him false, and he fully imagined that the Birs Nimroud Jews had taken the Girdle to Mersina, who was to retain it until he arrived to claim it. In proof of this he gave Edwards a note to convey to Mersina, whom he instructed to hand over the Girdle, on payment of a certain sum, for conveyance to the British Museum. He expressed many regrets that I had been drowned, and it pained him to think that I had not lived to receive his apologies for the way in which he had treated me.
The pathos of the story made a great impression on me, and I grieved at the thought that Kellner's end had been such a sad one. But Edwards quite restored my spirits by describing how, for a time, armed with Kellner's note, he had sought Mersina, in the full expectation of acquiring the Girdle, and of taking it home to my uncle.
"You see," said he, laughing, "I could have made a very good story out of all our adventures in pursuit of it, and everyone would have thought that I was no end of a hero."
"Not you, George," said I, "I know you well enough."
"I wonder what became of Mersina," said Edwards.
"As I told you," said I, "Daud fancied that he had cleared off with his ill-gotten gains, to start afresh in Syria or Egypt. I am rather glad, though, that he let in that scoundrel of an astrologer. He is a bad lot, I am sure. He gave away poor old Raspul, and he tried to give away Mersina to the Turks. But it was a case of the biter bitten that time."
"That is all fair enough in this part of the world," said Edwards. "The Turks themselves would give away the astrologer, or anyone else, without a blush, if they thought it to their own advantage to do so. But, as a rule, they find it more profitable to let the various badmashes cut each others' throats."
It was a great disappointment to me to find, when I was well enough to think of such things, that all my letters from home, of which I was told there had been a number, had been packed up, with my other belongings, and sent home to my people, directly after I had disappeared from the steamer. I had written very fully to my uncle as soon as Edwards and I had returned from our wanderings, and I had hoped that I should now find answers to my letters; but the only home news that I received was in a note which my mother had written to Edwards. There was nothing much in it, except thanks for the care which he had bestowed on me when we were together in the desert, and a request that he would take the greatest care of my health, and not allow me to run any further risks. Still, even that short letter was something; it was in my mother's handwriting, and it brought me nearer home. Since she had written it, however, she had heard of my death, and all my papers and clothes had probably reached her. But there was just a chance that the telegram announcing my safety might have arrived before my boxes, and I hoped that it had been so. My one thought now was to get home as quickly as possible, but my gaoler damped all my ardour by telling me that he certainly would not let me think of the journey for another month or six weeks.
Among my earliest visitors was the captain of the river steamer, who had quite forgiven me for all the trouble that I had been to him, though he warned me that if I ever took passage with him again, he would have me chained to my berth. As I had surmised, my absence from the steamer was not discovered until some hours after I had gone. The steward had brought a cup of tea to my cabin, and finding it empty, and that the bed had not been slept in, went and reported matters to the captain. Then the steamer was searched from stem to stern, and a whole day wasted in sending boats up the river to look for me. At last the search was abandoned, the captain coming to the conclusion that I must have walked overboard in my sleep. He laughed heartily over his story, and though, of course, I apologised most humbly for having deceived him, I inwardly enjoyed the description of his discomfiture.
I promised him that I would never willingly jump overboard again, and we remained the best of friends.
So the time dragged on, and I began to have a craving to see the Golden Girdle which the Consul-General guarded so jealously. I noticed that none of my visitors ever referred to it, and if I happened to mention it, they promptly changed the subject. I grew suspicious, and one day I suddenly tackled Edwards.
"Why is it," I asked, "that you will never speak about my Girdle?"
"I am always talking about it," said he.
"Not to me," said I. "Is it still safe and sound?"
"Perfectly," he replied.
"Then I propose," said I, "that we shall have a grand inspection of it."
"Not just at present," said Edwards, "I do not think that you are strong enough."
"Look here, George," I said, "I believe that you are keeping something from me."
"I swear I am not," said he.
"Then," said I, "you are under the impression that, if I gaze on the Golden Girdle, something will go wrong with my brain."
I saw Edwards colour, and I was convinced that I had hit the nail on the head. But our conversation was interrupted by the arrival of a telegram for me. My people had already spent a mint of money in telegraphing congratulations, and in asking almost daily after my health; but the telegram which I now received contained a huge surprise. It was from my uncle, who said that he and my father had decided to come out to Baghdad and bring me home, and that I was to remain until their arrival. They were starting at once, and it was a great joy to me to think that, within five or six weeks, I should be free, and moreover, have no further responsibility for the Girdle, of which my uncle would himself be able to take charge. I now found, after a lengthy talk with my doctor, that he was painfully superstitious about the Girdle; he was evidently afraid that when it was let loose from the safe, something dreadful would happen, and I laughed at his fears. He was greatly relieved at the news that my uncle was coming out, as he did not like the idea of my going off alone with the dreadful serpent belt.
"Of course," he said, "you will not think of examining your treasure now, until your uncle arrives."